


Dread Wolf's Legacy

by SoManyJacks



Series: Where did all these nugs come from? [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Fen'Harel - Freeform, Light Bondage, Multi, Party Banter, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 68,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyJacks/pseuds/SoManyJacks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my head canon, which explains the reason Lavellan left her Dalish clan in the first place. Her encounters with Solas and Cullen (and possibly Iron Bull, why not) are just a pleasing side benefit. The rest is party banter and sexy bits. </p><p>Also, nugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haven and the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to maintain as much continuity with the game as possible. However some scenes are taken out of order from the game to fit my head canon. All of the referenced poetry and songs are from the game codex. Also I've never done this so if I'm breaking some rule or something please let me know.

Vir’athawen Lavellan tossed in her sleep, waking with a start in her quarters at Haven. The mark on her hand crackled faintly. She lay for a few moments, trying to recall what she had been dreaming about. Home? Her clan? She couldn’t be sure. All that was left was a vague melancholy, a feeling of missing something. Something important.

Yawning, she glanced at the window. The sky was light gray, the clouds tinged with the shifting poison green from the Breach. It would be dawn soon.

With a groan, she heaved herself up. She walked out of her cottage, most of Haven still asleep around her.

Solas stood outside, staring up at the sky. “You are awake,” he said, not turning.

“I couldn’t sleep. I had -”

“- Bad dreams.” He finished her thought.

She laughed. “Of course you knew.”

It had been ten days since she had met Solas. Ten days since she had closed that first rift. Vir’athawen, Vira to the shems, was trained as an hunter, an observer. This also translated into a fair approximation of a spy, at least by Dalish standards. By now she had a good grasp of what made the other members of the Inquisition tick, the masks behind which they all hid. Cassandra, the consummate warrior, was an open book, of course. Cullen had more layers: a stern exterior that hinted at a playful side underneath. Varric seemed open, though Vira suspected he was hiding behind his affability and nicknames. Josephine had manners and etiquette. Leliana was a naked knife, flickering and shimmering too fast to focus on.

Solas was harder to read. At first she thought him simply a snob, a way to hide weakness with seeming confidence. But no, the confidence was real, and earned. A mystic, perhaps? Mystics didn’t usually like to joke as much as Solas did with Varric.

“Dreams are my specialty,” Solas conceded, turning to face her.

“I don’t remember what I was dreaming about, but it made me feel....” She shook her head.

“The sadness of dreams can be quite acute,” he noted.

She laughed hollowly. “Of course you know that too,” she said. “Were you spying on my dreams?” The accusation was meant to be playful.

Solas shook his head, stepping closer to her. “I can see it in your eyes, Lethallan.”

She felt her cheeks redden, the intensity of his gaze taking her by surprise. Solas took another step closer.

“Well isn’t this cozy,” Varric’s voice cut through the dawn. “Chuckles. Herald.” He greeted them with a twinkle in his eye.

Vira didn’t know whether to hug the dwarf or punch him for interrupting. When in doubt, recover with a joke. “It’s a Dalish thing. You wouldn’t understand,” she said, turning to the rogue.

“Ah,” he said tactfully. “Cassandra’s suiting up, so we have a good hour to grab some breakfast before heading out. They’ve got fresh bacon cooking at the tavern, if you’re interested.”

“Oh, yes, I do so love salted fried flesh in the morning,” Solas said.

“Don’t forget the curing. It’s not just salted and fried. It’s salted, _cured_ , and fried. The curing makes all the difference, believe me.” Varric corrected him.

“Just tell me they’ve got tea,” Vira sighed. “It’s too early to put up with both of you.”

The sun was fully up by the time they headed out. The ragtag band was looking for the Horsemaster of Redcliffe, a man called Dennet. Vira doubted he would part with his stable, but horses were needed so badly that the effort was deemed necessary.

For once, the trip was unremarkable. Perhaps the Inquisition was taking root - there was no sign of apostates nor templars. They reached the camp near Redcliffe Farm by nightfall.

“This better not be a wild goose chase,” Varric grumbled as he climbed down from the mount he shared with Cassandra. “I’m sick of staring at your armor all day.”

“It is not a goose chase,” Cassandra said. “I am sure we can get you a pony for your very own.”

“A snoufleur might be better, don’t you think?” Vira said. “More gravitas.”

“Very funny, Herald. I’m going to get some rest before the two of you strip me completely of my dignity.”

Finding Dennet was easy. Gruff man, but Vira could see he wanted to do the right thing. Rather than make the decision himself, though, he sent them to see his farmhand and his wife. Bron who wanted the Inquisition to build watchtowers, to help the farmers know when danger was approaching. Vira fought the urge to scream with frustration. That would take weeks.

Dennet’s wife Elaina was another matter. “It’s the wolves,” she said to Cassandra. “They’ve gone mad.”

Vira froze. Wolves. Elaina was still talking, but her voice sounded tinny and far away.

Cold sweat started to pool at the small of Vira’s back. Varric nudged her. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yes,” Vira snapped. She sighed. “Yes,” she repeated, more calmly.

Solas eyed her carefully but said nothing as Cassandra led them back to camp.

Vira’s mind raced, trying to find some way to relieve herself of responsibility from this mission and still save face. Maybe bring in a recruit? A local hunter?

“Hold,” Cassandra hissed, raising a hand in warning. “We will not have to look far to find these wolves,” she whispered, nodding at the ravine across the field. A large black wolf paced there, as if guarding the entrance.

“He should have caught our scent by now, and attacked or ran,” Solas said. “This is not normal behavior for a wolf.”

“Thanks, Chuckles. None of the rest of us have ever seen a wolf, you know.” Varric rolled his eyes.

Cassandra glared at the two of them. She waved her hands to each side, indicating that Varric and the Herald should take flank. The dwarf had already gone into shadow. Vira clumsily did the same.

Her hands shook as she drew her daggers. The next moment, the chaos of the battle was upon them. She felt the tingling of her skin as Solas cast a barrier around them. Five more wolves came pouring out of the ravine. Vira saw the mage run into the crevice, leaving the others to deal with the pack.

“Hey! Chuckles!” Varric shouted, as he shot a wolf harrying Cassandra’s side. “We don’t need any help or anything!”

Vira’s training took over, and she leapt through the air, blades slicing. Within moments the pack was dead. She and her companions ran into the ravine after Solas.

Sounds of magic were echoing, along with an otherworldly shriek. Solas was single-handedly fighting a shade demon, and a big one at that. Vira stabbed twice at the creature’s back, ducking as Cassandra lopped off its head.

“It is done,” the warrior said, breathing heavily.

“The demon had possessed the wolves,” Solas said. “They were enslaved.”

Vira stumbled back out to the field. The bodies of six wolves lay scattered on the bloody grass. She knelt at the side of the largest. Her fingers wove into the fur, still warm. “Ar lasa mala revas, fen. Ir abelas. Dareth shiral.”

She stood quickly, but not before the others emerged from the ravine.

“What is the matter?” Cassandra called out.

“Nothing,” the Herald replied. “It’s, uh, a Dalish custom.” She looked at Solas, pleading with her eyes that he not correct her for once.

The elf remained silent, bowing his head.

Varric looked skeptical. “Uh huh. Right. Okay. Well. Let’s get back to Haven, shall we? If we stay too long we might get roped into building these damn watchtowers ourselves.”

Returning to Haven almost felt like home to Vira. Or perhaps she just wished that strongly for a bath. At sunset, refreshed, she ambled to the Tavern for supper.

She was just sipping her first tankard when Varric walked in. “Herald!” Within a moment he had plonked himself, his drink, and another for her down on the table. “So. Tough day, eh?”

“Varric, you have nicknames for everyone. Why do you still call me Herald?”

“I calls ‘em likes I sees ‘em,” he said. “Why, what do you like to be called? You Dalish are so prickly about names.”

She laughed. “Fair point. My name is Vir’athawen Lavellan. I let the shems call me Vira.”

“Vir’athawen,” Varric repeated. “I’ve never heard that before. What does it mean?”

“Tip of the knife, roughly translated,” Vira explained.

“Vir’athawen. Huh. Doesn’t really roll off the tongue,” Varric said. “I’ll stick with Vira. So, what’s the deal with you and wolves?”

“Right. That,” Vira said. She drained her drink in one long swallow and reached for the fresh one Varric had brought her.

Varric’s eyes widened. “A story that needs that kind of drink first? You sure you want to tell me?”

Vira smiled. “It’ll come out eventually,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve never killed a wolf before.”

“What? Never? You’re an elven hunter! How is that even possible?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You going somewhere?” Varric said, looking around.

“You’ve got me there. Okay.” She paused, staring into her drink. “When I was very little, just learning to walk, I wandered away from our camp. No one knows how it happened. One minute I was in my aravel, the next, I was roaming the forest. I don’t remember any of this, mind you. I was too young.”

“It took four hunters to find me. Apparently I was hard to track, even then. They found me about a mile away. I was asleep, comfy as you like, with a huge wolf curled up around me. We were surrounded by the bodies of giant spiders.

“The wolf looked at the hunters. They dared not shoot it, lest I be injured in the process. The wolf stood up, and the hunters could see it had many wounds from the spiders. It strode off into the woods. The tracks disappeared about fifty yards from where they found me.”

“Wow,” Varric said. Vira had never heard sincerity in his voice before. “And you were okay? Not injured?”

“Right.”

“That must’ve been one hell of a wolf,” Varric said. He took a drink.

Vira scraped at the tabletop with her fingernail. “I suppose. After that, our clan never had any trouble with wolves. Ever. There were packs all over the Free Marches, but they never bothered us or our halla, not even during the great blizzard.” Her voice trailed off. Vira remembered how the encounter had earned her the nickname Da’fen, Little Wolf. At least that’s what they called her to her face.

“That sounds like a good thing,” Varric offered.

“Having the favor of the wolves might be useful, but it is... a complicated subject for the Dalish,” Vera said.

“Because maybe that wolf was Fen’Harel?” Varric said.

“Don’t joke around about that,” Vira snapped. “It’s not funny. And how do you know about Fen’Harel anyway?”

“I’m not joking,” Varric said. “I mean it. And you can’t walk ten yards in the Emerald Graves without running into a wolf statue.”

The tavern door opened, and a wave of cool air rushed in. Cullen walked in, followed by Cassandra.

“Why, hello, Herald,” Cullen said. “Is this dwarf bothering you? I can have him removed from the premises if you desire.” The Templar’s attempt to keep a straight face failed and he broke into a lopsided grin.

“Ugggh.” Cassandra snorted, watching the Templar head to the bar for a drink. “How are you, Herald? I came to check on you. I thought today’s mission might have been... difficult for you.”

Vira threw up her hands. “Does everyone know my business?”

Cassandra coughed delicately. “While you were unconscious, Leliana searched your belongings. She found a wolf carving among your things.”

Varric raised his eyebrows significantly as he took a deep swig from his cup.

“I... am fine, Seeker. I appreciate your concern. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Cassandra nodded in approval. “This crisis asks much of us. I fear we will all face difficulties before the end.”

Cullen came over with tankards. “Seeker, you’re still standing. Aren’t you joining us?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Not tonight. There is much I must attend to before morning.” With a short bow, she strode out of the tavern.

Cullen chuckled. “It’s nice to have someone around who makes me look approachable and easy-going. Seeker Cassandra has got to be the most uptight person I’ve ever met.”

Varric snorted. “Oh yeah? I take it you’ve never met Bann Trevelyan, up in Ostwick.The stick up that guy’s butt has a stick up its butt.”

“Really?” Cullen laughed.

“Oh yeah. The whole family is so devout they make Mother Giselle look like a heretic. Except the second son, though. That guy’s all right, if you ask me.”

Vira relaxed, letting Varric and Cullen’s banter wash over her. The day had been hard enough, and she was unaccustomed to having strangers ask such personal questions. The Dalish were a reserved sort. Of course, among the clans, there was no need for personal questions. The clans were so insular that, more than likely, there were few secrets to be had.

She roused herself, trying to focus on the dwarf’s joke. Instead, her eyes kept creeping to Cullen’s face. Perhaps it was the ale, or just the desire to distract herself from the stress of the day, but Vira had decided the Commander’s face was definitely something worth studying.

“... and it turned out to be a basket of live nugs!” Varric was saying.

Cullen threw back his head and laughed.

Vira smiled. “It’s nice to see this side of you, Commander.”

“What side is that?” 

“The side that’s not frowning or shouting at troops.” 

“Well, you know what they say. Everyone needs a hobby.” There was that lopsided grin again.

“Do they now?” Vira said, one eyebrow arched suggestively. She held his gaze with her own.

“Ah, yes, well,” Cullen spluttered. He looked away, blushing slightly.

It was Vira’s turn to laugh. It felt good. She drained her tankard. “Well, gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Have a good night.” She nodded at Varric and briefly laid a hand on Cullen’s shoulder as she rose.

As the door shut behind her, Varric turned to Cullen. “Commander? You know if your mouth hangs open like that, you’ll catch flies.”

Cullen snapped his mouth shut with an audible “clop”. “Maker’s breath,” he sighed. He stared into his tankard.

Varric shook his head. “Here we go again,” he muttered.

Outside, the cool air helped clear Vira’s thoughts, muddled not just from the heat and ale of the tavern, but also how quickly these strangers seemed to come to care about her. Possibly Cullen’s lopsided grin added to the confusion. Or maybe it was that scar on his lip. Or those eyes....

It was a full moon. She could not see it, hidden behind the swirling green clouds, but the elf could feel it. Vira fetched her pack from the cottage. With a glance to make sure she wasn’t seen, she slipped behind the houses into a small clearing, hidden from the bustle of Haven.

She knelt, taking the small wolf carving from her bag. How long had she carried it? How far? She had almost forgotten she even had it. As if Vira could ever forget the months she spent, carving it in secret, alone. Or the years she endured the insults and mockery of the other children in her clan. They said she had not gotten lost, but had followed the wolf from the camp. As if a babe who could barely walk would do such a thing.

“Why do you carry that?” Solas said from behind her shoulder.

“Fenedhis!” she shouted, leaping up. How could he have crept up on her?

“I apologize,” he said, bowing his head. “I did not intend to startle you. It is difficult, is it not, to truly listen, while surrounded by a stone city?”

Vira scowled at him, then made to put the statue back in her pack.

“Please, may I see that?” Solas held out his hand.

With reluctance, she passed the carving to him.

“This is remarkable craftsmanship, especially for one that does not follow the Vir Atish’an.”

“Thank you,” she said, still on edge from the unexpected surprise.

“Still, it saddens me to see you carry it.”

“And why is that?” Vira snapped, her cheeks flushing with anger.

“To pay homage to Fen’Harel -”

She cut him off. “You are not my Keeper. I need no lectures from you.”

He laughed, a hollow sound. “My apologies. I merely meant that such a creature does not deserve worship. Especially not from someone like you.” As he handed the carving back to her, he took her hand and pulled her close.

She looked up at him, her anger melting into confusion. His gaze held her; she felt trapped, like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a snake. Or a wolf.

“You are trembling,” he said. “Do I frighten you?”

“I’m not frightened.” Indeed, the quavering in her was not caused by fear, but something else. Not lust, even, but something more than that; the vibration of a magnet seeking to cleave to iron.

“The cold, perhaps,” he said. His face was very near now. “Or fatigue.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear. “I must confess: I fear for us both, Vir’athawen.”

In a blink, he had turned, leaping on silent feet over the crumbling stone.


	2. Recruiting the Chargers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira Lavellan recruits the Bull's Chargers. An evening stroll in the woods turns out unexpectedly.

It was a two day march from the Storm Coast back to Haven. Vira was quite pleased with how the mission had gone, actually. The idea of hiring a group of mercenaries was a bit odd at first, not to mention one led by a Qunari spy. Still, one glance at how well the Bull’s Chargers fought the Venatori was enough to prove their worth to the Inquisition. 

The Iron Bull walked up alongside Vira, his horns gleaming in the sun. “So, Herald, how did you get wrapped up in all of this? Before the mark on your hand, I mean.” 

“My clan sent me to check out the conclave,” she said delicately.

“You mean spy on it.” It was not a question. “This whole operation is just chock full of spies, isn’t it. You, me, Red, Varric...”

“Hey! I’m not a spy!” Varric protested from behind them.

“Sure you’re not. The Merchant’s Guild gets all its info totally legit. Mm-hmm.” Bull nodded skeptically.

Vira laughed. “I think you’ll fit in just fine, Bull.”

He flashed a grin. “But seriously, why you? Dalish elf clans don’t have spies. I saw you fight. You trained as a hunter, I take it?”

She nodded. “It is rather a different style, isn’t it? And you’re right. We don’t train spies, not specifically. Hunting’s not much different from spying, though. Stealth, observation, you get the idea.”

He sized her up. “You’ve got a point there. I think there’s more to your story than that, though.”  
“How do you mean?” 

He waved his hand. “Look at your group. Humans, Dwarf, City Elves, and now me butting my horns in - and you’re comfortable with all of it. Odd for a Dalish.”

She shrugged. “Our clan had some contact with humans. Not a lot, mind you, but enough. Our Keeper thought that I had a certain... affinity with humans, that could work to our advantage.”   
Vira’s mind went back to the first human she had met. A young lad, who blundered through the forest near the camp. The Keeper had given orders to let him be, since he didn’t seem interested in hunting the halla or cutting trees. Vira had been assigned to shadow him, make sure he didn’t cause trouble. 

He mostly gathered herbs. It was quite boring, really, until he took a tumble into a muddy bog. Vira rolled her eyes as he flailed about, coating himself in mud. He trudged to the stream inlet and began to strip his clothes. Vira stopped rolling her eyes at that point.

Underneath his lumpy garments, the man was strapping. His wide shoulders and back rippled with muscle. He was nothing like the lithe, wiry elves in her clan. This man’s arms were as wide as her thigh, roped with sinew. He bathed in the stream, as Vira watched from a nearby tree branch. Her breath had quickened as she watched the interplay of his muscles beneath his skin.

“Affinity, eh?” Bull’s rumble of a voice broke her reverie. The look he cast the elf had a certain lascivious gleam.

She called his bluff, looking at him innocently. “So here I am.”

“Here you are, indeed.” Bull waved his hand. “Walking alongside a qunari Ben-Hassarath, killing Vints and Demons.” 

“Don’t forget the spying!” Varric called from behind them.

“Right. And spying,” Bull added. 

They camped that night in tents. Vira ran her hands over her skin, checking her bruises from the battle. Nothing serious, she thought, as she stretched into her blankets. 

Her mind wandered back to her conversation with Bull earlier in the day. For a huge brute, he was exceedingly perceptive. Or was she so obvious? 

The sounds of camp surrounded her. The Chargers were carousing, along with a few of the Blades of Hessarian and Inquisition recruits. They earned it, Vira thought. Still, it was difficult for her to get comfortable. Between the new bruises and the sounds of merry-making, sleep was elusive. She got up.

She headed out of the camp, pausing to tell the guard on duty that she wouldn’t stray beyond the advance scouts posted in the forest. As the trees thickened around her and the sound of the celebration receded, Vira felt her spirit lift a little. She found a large elm overlooking a moss-lined clearing. The clouds had cleared enough to let the wan light of the crescent moon to show, and it trickled on to the soft forest floor.

With a word of thanks to the tree, she scampered up to a strong branch and rested her back on the trunk. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Her reverie was soon interrupted, however, by a scuffle heading her way. She stiffened, loosening a dagger from the sheath. A moment later she relaxed, as her elven ears recognized the sound of Bull’s chuckle, and the corresponding giggle of a human woman. 

Ah, so that’s it, then, she thought with a smile. Well, let them enjoy themselves. Vira’s smile soon faded as she realized the couple was heading straight for her. The small copse was to be the site of their tryst. 

Vainly, Vira cast about for an exit. She wreathed herself in shadow. No other trees were close enough to afford a second exit, and with dismay she looked down to see one of the Blades of Hessarian leading Bull by the hand. They lay below the tree. 

Damn. Damn damn damn, Vira thought. She steeled herself to be an unwilling witness. Valiantly, she clamped her eyes shut. 

The sounds, though. Vira squinched her eyes even tighter, as if that could staunch the noises rising from below her. After a moment the elf realized her imagination was getting the better of her, so she rolled over and watched.

The Hessarian removed her headscarf to reveal a mane of thick, auburn curls. Not as bright as Vira’s, but still beautiful.

“I do love me a redhead,” Bull muttered, grasping her hair in both hands and burying his face in her neck. 

She squealed. “And I do love me these horns,” the woman moaned, gripping Bull’s tightly. He laughed and tossed her to the ground. Gently, Vira noted. 

From her vantage point, Vira watched as Bull deftly removed the woman’s clothing, pausing to keep her distracted with well-placed nuzzles and the occasional bite. 

Vira wondered if this is how she and her human lover had looked, back home. Minus the horns, of course, and with a slightly scaled-down set of proportions. Still. Bull was massive compared to this human. Had Vira looked so small when the clan’s watchers had come looking for her, found her similarly entwined?

Before she could ponder too deeply, Vira’s eyes widened as Bull hooked the woman’s legs over his horns as he buried his mouth into her. That’s a neat trick, Vira noted. The woman no longer attempted to silence her moans as Bull pleasured her. 

Within a few moments, the woman reached her climax, panting and gripping the Bull’s horns. Vira felt an unmistakable warmth flood through her. Carefully, she took a deep breath and let it out. 

“Glad you enjoyed the appetizers, my lady,” Bull rumbled as he divested himself from his pants. “Are you ready for the main course?”

Vira saw the woman’s eyes widen. Bull’s back was to the elf, but based on the Hessarian’s reaction, Vira guessed size was not an issue. “Shit,” the woman said. “I might have to join the Qun.”

Bull let out a short, barking laugh, as he positioned himself over her. “Don’t let anyone say I’m not a good ambassador.” He paused. “Are you ready?”

The woman bit her lip, then nodded. Her whole body convulsed with the first thrust. Bull held still.   
“Are you alright?” He asked, nuzzling the woman’s neck.

“I... I think so,” she gasped.

“Good,” Bull said. With a measured rhythm, he thrust again. 

Vira watched his muscles flex, over and over. Without realizing it, her hand strayed to caress the inside of her thighs. As the woman’s moans grew, the elf slipped her hand underneath the fabric, dipping a finger into herself, remembering her time with the woodsman.

The woman’s cries grew frantic, then pleading. Bull slowed, then in one graceful move, flipped himself over so that the woman was astride him. 

Vira suppressed a gasp. Bull seemed to be looking right at her. But that wasn’t possible. She was wreathed in shadow. And even if she wasn’t, she was an elf, dammit. In the trees she was well-nigh invisible. And Bull only had one eye. 

The woman found her rhythm, arching up and down on Bull’s body. Her auburn hair tousled down her back. This is what the watchers saw, Vira thought. This is what I looked like.

The woman’s movements became more frenzied, and Bull began to grunt. His hands found her hips, driving her down on him, hard. 

Vira’s fingers, meanwhile, brought her closer and closer to the edge. She dug into her swollen flesh, and the elf bit her lip to avoid making a sound. 

In a few moments, the woman came, crying almost, sobbing her release. The sound sent Vira over the edge, and she found herself also climaxing, as Bull gave a great groan and pulled the woman’s hips tight to him. 

There were a few moments of near silence, as the lovers and their reluctant witness gathered their breath.

“You okay?” Bull asked as the woman tenderly climbed off him. 

Vira stifled a gasp. Bull was even bigger than she had expected. How had the woman taken such a beast?

“Never better. Though I fear I’ll be sore in the morning,” the woman said.

“I hear that a lot.” 

“Still. This was lovely. Shame you lot are moving off in the morning.”

“Well, you know how it goes. Hole in the sky and all that,” Bull rumbled. 

“True,” the woman said, rising shakily to her feet while she gathered her clothes. “Do you think anyone heard us?”

“Oh, it’s always a possibility,” Bull smiled indulgently, staring straight up at the branch Vira was cowering on. 

Vira did her best to avoid Bull the next morning. This lasted approximately fifteen minutes. On the march, her shorter legs were no match for his long stride. Short of outright running, there was no way to get away from him. 

Vira resigned herself, setting her shoulders as he approached. “Bull,” she nodded. 

“Herald.” They walked in silence for a few moments. Vira began to think she had worried for nothing.

“So,” he said finally. “You enjoy the show last night?”

She looked at him, her eyes blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ha!” he laughed. “You know, I may not have Dalish hearing, but there is one thing I do have.” He turned to her, giving a courtly bow, holding his hand out.

Without thinking, she gave a small bow in return, and offered her hand. “And what is that?”

He raised her hand to his lips. “An excellent sense of smell,” he said, breathing the musky scent on her fingers in deeply.

Vira whipped her hand away. She opened her mouth to speak, once, twice, then shut it again, shaking her head. “You have got to be kidding me,” she laughed finally. “You’re lucky I didn’t slap you just now.”

Bull grinned. “Ah, I’ve had worse. And I would’ve deserved it.”

“I didn’t mean to watch, you know. But I was there -”

“-And you couldn’t help yourself. Herald, I get it. Lighten up. It’s fine. This might be the end of the world. And hey, we’re on the same team now. I got lucky last night. Glad I was able to spread the wealth.” Bull resumed his march.

Vira blinked, then hurried to catch up to him. “What?”

“It’s no big deal. We don’t take this stuff as seriously in the Qun. No point in getting our knickers in knots about it. It’s good to let off a little steam now and then. Helps you concentrate when you’re killing Vints.”

“Well, you’re the expert on that, I guess.” 

They walked for a few paces.

“Plus,” Bull added, “I’ve never made two redheads so happy in one night.”

“Yeah?” Vira arched an eyebrow. “How do you know it was you that made me so happy? Maybe I have a thing for redheads too.”

It was Bull’s turn to break march. He watched the elf walk resolutely forward, her hips swaying. “I think I’m going to like it here,” he muttered.


	3. A New Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira Lavellan explains her long history with Fen'Harel.

“So, are you gonna do it or what?” Bull fixed Vira with a steely eye.

She threw her hands up. “What choice do I have?” The elf turned to her target. In one swift movement she drew a dagger and threw it, sinking the knife deep into the chest of the practice dummy.

“Nice one,” Varric said.

“Very nice,” Bull agreed.

Vira yanked the blade out. “I live but to serve,” she said with a graceful curtsy.

“See? You’ll be fine,” Varric said. “It’s just an Orlesian salon we’re talking about. Slap on a mask and do that curtsy shit a bunch of times and you be golden.” He aimed carefully, then squeezed Bianca’s trigger. The bolt shot into the knee of the dummy.

“Little low there, don’t you think?” Bull smirked.

“Har de har har. Listen, this crossbow’ll put a bolt straight through anyone not wearing full plate. If I angle up too far, the bolt could take out whoever’s standing behind. Like you, for instance.” Varric explained.

“Fair point.” Bull conceded. “Anyway, Vira, Varric is right. What do you have to worry about? You’ve got an affinity for humans, right?”

“This is different, Bull. Meeting the Imperial Enchanter? This is the Grand Game we’re talking about. I’ll be eaten alive. I wish Josephine could go instead.”

Varric sat on a rock, pulling out a small bottle of oil, which he applied to the crossbow in several places. “You’re the herald,” he said. “How did you get to be a spy, anyway? You never told us.”

“Yeah, you started to tell me, but then you got... _distracted_ ,” Bull leered.

Vira narrowed her eyes at the Qunari. Turning to Varric, she said calmly, “My Keeper took an interest in human affairs after the fifth blight. We had plenty of hunters already, and I got along well enough with humans. So the Keeper decided that I should hunt a different kind of prey. She sent me to Ansburg.”

“What? Just like that? How old were you?” Varric boggled.

“Just like that,” Vira said. “I was eighteen.”

“Maker’s balls!” Varric swore. “Eighteen.” He shook his head.

“What’s the big deal?” Bull asked, as he casually hefted a greataxe over his head, cleaving one of the dummies in half.

“Hey, leave one whole for me, will you?” Vira called out.

“The big _deal_ ,” Varric explained, “is _Ansburg_. That place is... rough, even for a human.The Bann is an elf-hating bastard, literally. The alienage is not habitable by any standard. It’s a cesspool. And I’m from Kirkwall,” he added for emphasis. “How on earth were you not eaten alive?”

Vira shrugged. “I didn’t say it was easy. I left the clan with nothing but my clothes and my knives. My Vallaslin hadn’t even fully healed,” she said, touching the tattoos on her face. “I decided that having something to trade would be helpful. Luckily, on the way, I found a cave swarming with Deepstalker.”

Varric snorted. “Most wouldn’t call that luck, Herald.”

Vira stood with her back to the dummy. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then turned to throw another blade, this time sinking the knife in the target’s belly. “So, I was loaded with deepstalker hides and teeth and venom. I scoped out the edges of the town until I found a shopkeeper, a woman who didn’t openly spit on the City Elves. I traded with her until I made a bit of a name for myself. Not a lot of Dalish came through town, as you can imagine.”

Bull nodded approvingly. “How long were you there?”

Vira looked up and chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Three months.”

“You stayed in Ansburg for three months?” Varric spluttered.

“I didn’t sleep there, Varric. I stayed in the forest, went into town during the day. I had a lot to learn. You may not realize this, but I was not always the witty, self-assured, charming woman you see before you.” Vira laughed. “I was as dour as Cassandra, but with a bigger chip on my shoulder, and wilder than Sera. Ansburg helped me to get past that. I spent a lot of time at the tavern, actually. I learned to flirt, to tell jokes, to tell the difference between a dangerous man and one who is just scared or stupid.”

“I have a hard time believing you were ever bad at flirting,” Bull rumbled.

“Pssh, you just like redheads,” Vira scoffed. “Trust me. There were many moments of unintended comedy.”

Varric laughed. “I’m trying to imagine you fending off the wretches in the Dancing Goat.”

“Fending off wasn’t the issue. Convincing them I wasn’t going to slice off their ears or eat their children was the real challenge.” Vira chuckled.

“So what happened after that?” Bull asked. “Before you answer, are you done with this?” He pointed at a target.

“All yours,” Vira nodded. She flinched as Bull spun twice, decapitating the dummy the first time, then chopping it in half at the stomach.

“Ha! That move will never work on dwarves!” Varric gloated. “Anyway, you were saying?”

“After that, I returned to my clan. With the exception of the Keeper, most were surprised to see me alive. The rest were disappointed I was.”

“Ouch,” Varric said. “And after all you’d done for them.”

Vira shrugged. “After Ansburg came Tantervale, then Starkhaven. Never made it to Kirkwall. None of which,” Vira added, “have even remotely prepared me for Orlais. You guys’ll come with me though, right?”

“Seeing you fence with Orlesian mask-lickers? I’m in,” Bull laughed.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely. I would not miss this,” Varric agreed. “How about you, Chuckles?” The dwarf called out, looking over Vira’s shoulder.

“I am afraid I must decline,” Solas said, walking up to them. “A party hosted by the Imperial Enchanter is no place for an elven apostate. Lethallan, if I might have a word?” He gestured towards the path out of Haven.

“Of course,” Vira said. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

The elves walked in silence for a few moments. “Something on your mind, Solas?” Vira asked.

“Yes,” he said, coming to stop at a low wall, overlooking the lake. “You.” He gazed at her, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t understand,” she said, sitting down.

“You seem to be fitting in here quite well,” he noted.

“Is that a problem?”

He laughed. “No. I am glad of it. I overheard the end of your conversation with the others. They may not have understood the import of your journeys, but I do.” He gave her a significant look. “I question why a Keeper would send such a young elf on such a dangerous mission, alone, and with no training.”

Vira looked out at the frozen water. “You know a lot of clan life for someone who spent so many years alone.” The bitterness in her voice was palpable.

“I merely meant that it is clear to me that you were exiled, in deed if not in name.”

Vira’s laugh was hollow. “Thanks for noticing. Would you like to hear my ‘crime’? Would you like to sit in judgment as well, oh lord high elf?”

Solas flinched, as if she had slapped him.

Vira’s anger evaporated. “Ir abelas, Solas. That was unworthy of me. I apologize.”

He shook his head. “No need. I am stirring up painful memories, in my clumsy attempt to help.”

“Help?” Vira was confused.

“I may not have Cole’s gift of empathy, but I can sense your pain. You seem to be... missing a part of yourself. I thought it might be your clan. I know what it is to wander without kin. I thought....” His voice trailed off.

“Solas, I’m sorry. I’m an ass.” Vira reached out, as if to grasp his hand. The mark sparkled brightly, and she instead clenched her hand in her lap.

There were a few moments of silence as they each contemplated the lake, reflecting the green glow of the breach.

“You are right about one thing. I am missing a part of me,” Vira said, as she rose and took a few steps down the shoreline. “I assume Varric has told everyone in Haven about the incident I had with the wolf as a baby?”

She glanced back at Solas, taking his lack of response as an affirmative. “What I didn’t tell him was what happened after. I was an orphan, did you know that? In our clan, orphans were raised communally. All families with children take turns raising the child for a few months at a time. Usually, one of the families petitions for Ma’hallan, to adopt the child as their own.” She paused, staring at the mountains.

“There was no Ma’hallan for you?” Solas asked, his voice almost a whisper.

Vira shook her head. “At first I didn’t know why. In public the Keeper praised me, for helping to protect the halla. In private, the rumors were less attractive.The other children told me. They called me ‘Vir’lathfen’. Wolf-lover. Fen’Harel had my scent, they said. No one wanted their family to be... tainted.”

Solas rose to stand beside her. Vira did not see him reach out to her, only to pull his hand back inches from her shoulder.

Vira continued: “There is little else. I spent my youth bouncing from family to family, each providing the bare necessary essentials - food, shelter, but no affection. I took to roaming the Green Dales. I wanted to find another wolf, and let it attack me. I thought if my blood was spilled, it would prove I was... untainted. Worthy of the Ma’hallan. Or I would die. I took the risk, but it just made things worse. Finding the wolves was easy. But they refused to attack. They took me in, as part of their pack. Once that happened, there was no chance for the Ma’hallan. So the wolves became my family. They taught me to hunt. It is why I favor daggers over a bow. There was no one to teach me to shoot.”

Vira looked over at Solas. His eyes glistened as he stared out over the ice.

“A sad tale,” he said. “To have one action so mark an individual. Even the best intentions go astray. How well I know it.” He paused. “So it is not your clan you miss, but your pack.”

She nodded. “Even when I was away from them, in the shemlen cities, the wolf was never far away in my dreams. No matter what nightmare came my way, I had the wolf to protect me.”

“ _The_ wolf?!?” Solas said sharply. “As in, one in particular? Not a pack?”

Vira shook her head. “Sometimes I would dream of running with the pack, but usually it was always the same wolf. Well, sort of. More, the idea of the wolf. Parts of it. I would hear it howl, or catch a glimpse of its eyes, or... ” Vira sighed, remembering how comforting it was, even in the midst of the darkest dream, nightmares of blindness and despair, to reach out and feel the thick fur of ‘her’ wolf. It was always with her when she needed it. “I haven’t dreamed of the wolf since the Conclave.”

The tears that Solas had been holding back began to spill. Vira gasped in shock as he suddenly embraced her, holding her tightly. “Oh, Da’len,” he breathed. “Ir abelas, Da’len.”

Vira’s surprise and confusion was surmounted by the sensation of the embrace. It had been a very long time since anyone had held her with such intensity, yet with such tenderness. She clung to him tightly, as tears of her own began. “It’s okay, Solas,” she said, unsure of who was comforting whom. “I have a new family now.”

They stood for several heartbeats. After a moment Vira became acutely aware of the feeling of his breath on her neck, his lips so close to her skin, his fingers intertwined in her hair. A different kind of warmth began to prickle, deep in her belly.

Vira’s heart began to pound. Solas slid his cheek along hers, the corners of their lips just barely brushing. He drew back, cupping her cheek in one hand, and wiped away an errant tear with his thumb.

His eyes ran over her face, drinking it in. The elf’s lips were parted and his breath was heavy. His other hand rose, and he held her face gently. “Ir abelas, ma vhenan,” he whispered, his voice ragged. He kissed her brow, his lips hot and lingering on her skin. Her breath caught in her throat, a tiny gasp. She felt his body stiffen at the sound and he gave a barely audible groan.

With a shuddering breath, he turned and was gone, leaving her trembling on the shore of the frozen lake.


	4. Dreams of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place immediately following the events of Chapter 3. Vira Lavellan dreams of the events that lead her to leave her clan. But her dreams are watched by a familiar-seeming wolf...

The encounter on the lakeshore left Vira wanting to scream in frustration. The connection that she and Solas shared was palpable, yet he seemed unwilling to act on it. Worse, Vira herself was paralyzed. Although she was an adult, unafraid of pursuing whomever she wanted, somehow around Solas she became shy, almost virginal. It was maddening.

The sun was beginning to set. Vira headed to the Chantry, opting to take a meal in quieter surroundings than the Tavern. The trip to the Imperial Enchanter’s salon was likely to be fraught, especially given that the Templars had joined the Inquisition. A meal in solitude, followed by an early bed, was just the thing to prepare, Vira thought.

The antechamber to the war room was occupied, however. Cullen sat at the table, gnawing on a heel of bread, poring over maps. He looked up as she entered, and his face brightened into his characteristic half-smile. “Hello Herald,” he said, rising from his seat.

Vira smiled in return. “Cullen, I’ve told you a thousand times. Call me Vira. At least when we’re not on official business.” She sat across the table from him, setting down her plate. “May I?” she said, gesturing at the carafe of honey-wine.

“Allow me,” Cullen replied, fetching a goblet and pouring her a glass. “The finest Haven has to offer.” He offered the cup with a flourish.

“You mean the finest Seggrit deigns to sell us?” She smirked, taking a sip. She winced at the taste.

“Ah, I’m afraid so, Her-, I mean, Vira.” He caught himself. “Hopefully we’ll have better at Duke Ghislain’s estate.”

“Are you coming with us?” Vira asked in surprise.

“I am.” Cullen confirmed. “I want to be there to personally round up any errant Templars. Hopefully we can weed out any unstable elements before they join. Though I can’t lie - I am not looking forward to the salon proper.”

“No?” Vira took a bite of her bread.

“So many nobles. I don’t have the stomach for court intrigue. Compared to Leliana or Josephine, I feel as though I was raised by a pack of wolves.” Cullen laughed.

Vira spluttered, almost choking on her bread.

“Are you alright?” Cullen asked.

Vira nodded, holding a hand up to wipe her mouth. “I... swallowed wrong,” she lied. “And you shouldn’t worry. I’m the one they’ll all be looking at. I would much prefer the wolves than the Duke’s court.”

“If anyone laughs at you, just threaten to open a fade rift.” Cullen shrugged.

“Commander!” Vira said in mock scandal. “I would never stoop to such grandstanding. A dagger to the throat would work just as well.”

Cullen laughed. “See? You’ll be fine. If you’re half as charming with those fops as you are with me, you’ll have the court wrapped around your finger in no time.”

“You think I’m charming?” Vira fluttered her eyelashes playfully.

“Utterly,” Cullen said. The Templar still smiled, but his voice was sincere.

They locked eyes. Vira found herself somehow unable to look away from his face.

A courier rushed in, splintering the moment. “Commander! Uh, oh. Excuse me, Herald.” He bowed an apology. “Seeker Pentaghast sent me to find you. One of the Templars has had an altercation with a mage.”

Cullen wrenched his gaze away from Vira. “Idiots. Can’t the mages keep their spells to themselves around the Templars?” He rose.

“It’s not that,” the courier said. “They’re brawling in the Tavern.” The courier ran out.

Vira laughed. “This was almost a lovely meal, Commander. Perhaps we can continue it at another time.” She held out her hand.

Cullen stuttered. “Ah, yes, well...” He cleared his throat. “Another time,” he said. They shook hands.

“I look forward to it.” Vira said with a smile.

Cullen nodded.

“You can stop shaking my hand now,” Vira said gently.

Cullen looked stricken. “What? Yes, of course. Must go,” he said, backing away. He bumped into a chair. “Templars to keep in line.” He turned and fled.

Vira watched him rush out of the room. “What the hell was that about?” she said aloud. With a shrug, she turned back to her dinner.

That night, Vira’s dreams were vivid, a contrast from the jumbled images which had plagued her since the Conclave. She was eighteen, young and wild. It was before she had traveled to Ansburg, taken the name Vira, learned to deal with the shems. She walked through the forest in the Green Dales. The woodsman she had been tracking all week was just ahead, bathing in the stream.

In the manner of dreams, Vira was aware that she was reliving a memory, knowing what would come next but unable to change her actions. She walked closer.

The man was nude, and once again Vira found her breath quickening to see the broad muscles rippling in his shoulders and back. Something was different, however. There was a wolf, huge and glorious, sitting beside the stream, gazing at her with his golden eyes. Vira sensed something was wrong. She remembered no wolf, not then. But maybe it had always been there?

The man turned. “Shit,” he said, when he saw the young elf staring at him. He clumsily attempted to hide his lower body under water, but as the stream was not very deep, he slipped on the rocks and tumbled backwards.

The young Vir’athawen regarded him calmly. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, bathing...?” He gestured to his muddy clothes on the stream bank. “I fell in the mud.”

“I know that,” Vir’athawen said. “You’ve come to these woods every day for a week. What are you seeking?”

“You’ve been watching me for a week?” He blinked.

“It has been tasked to me. I tire of it. What are you seeking?” Vira heard herself saying the words. Had she ever been so serious?

“Royal Elfroot,” he said. “I am an alchemist.”

“You aren’t afraid of me,” she stated, tilting her head in confusion.

“Ah...” the man said delicately. “Well, you’ve been watching me for a week, so if you wanted to kill me, you probably would have already. Besides,” he added. “You don’t have a bow.”

The man flinched as a blade whirred through the air, sinking into the tree limb directly over his head. “Maker’s breath!”

“I need no bow to kill you,” Vir’athawen stated.

“I see that.”

They regarded each other for a few moments. Vir’athawen turned and melted back into the woods.

“Hey, wait!” The man called out. “Come back!”

The dream blurred, shifted. She was approaching the stream once again, from another direction. The wolf was still there, now on the opposite streambank, sitting on its haunches. In her hand were several Royal Elfroot plants. The woodsman had built a small fire on the bank of the stream. Above this he had hung his clothes, still damp. He had wrapped his torso, fashioning a basic loincloth from his cloak.

“Here is Royal Elfroot,” Vir’athawen said. “You may leave now.” She held the plants out at arm’s length.

He blinked in confusion, and laughed. “You’re helping me?”

“If you have what you need, you can return to your village. And I can return to my pa-... clan.”

“All right,” he said, reaching up to take the plants from her. “You’re very odd, for a Dalish,” he said.

“How many Dalish do you know?” Vir’athawen said, her voice haughty.

“I traded with a clan in the southern Marches before I came here. My name is Thomas, by the way.” He held out his hand.

Vir’athawen shook it tentatively, unsure of the custom.

“Generally, this is where you tell me your name,” he smiled.

“It is Vir’athawen.”

“Ah,” he said amiably. “Well, Vir’athawen, I appreciate your help.”

“You are... most welcome,” she said.

“It’s going to be at least an hour until my clothes are dry, you know. I’d rather not travel in damp trousers.”

Vir’athawen’s eyes roved over the man’s chest. Without realizing it, she licked her lips. Vira cringed inwardly at the memory. “You may stay,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows. “There are ways to pass the time, you know.” He stretched out casually, the muscles dancing under his skin. He half-lay on the soft moss, propping himself up with one arm. The cloak draped over his middle sagged, revealing the top of his hips.

Lust flooded through the elf. She frowned, biting her lip in confusion.

“Or, not,” he said hastily as the elf frowned. He tugged the cloak up to cover more of himself.

She turned around, listening carefully to the sounds of the forest. She sensed no elves nearby. Not surprising; the clan usually gave her a wide berth. As she turned back to Thomas, her gaze fell once more on the wolf. They locked eyes for a moment. In the dream, Vira again felt momentary confusion. There had not been a wolf at the time - didn’t that come later?

“I think,” Vir’athawen said, her cheeks burning. “I think I would like that.”

She sank down to kneel beside the man.

“Really?” Thomas asked. “Are you sure?”

She reached a hand to grasp the back of his head, pulling him close. Vira reveled in the memory, the momentary pause before their lips met, the feeling of their breath intermingling.

The kiss was electric. What began as a shy, almost chaste gesture quickly became torrid as they strove to taste each other. Vir’athawen moaned into his mouth as his hands tangled into her hair.

After a moment they paused, panting slightly. Vir’athawen’s fingers shook as she fumbled with the straps on her clothes. “I think I will like this very much,” she said.

He laughed. “Good.”

His hands were warm on her skin, but nothing compared to the heat of his mouth as he kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach.

Her own caresses were frantic, driven by years of pent-up loneliness. Vira realized that her hands were shaking, as the relief of being able to touch someone mixed with her youthful desires.

She felt the man’s rough stubble scrape the skin on her stomach, a delicious tickling sensation that felt even better on the inside of her thighs. Instinctively, she opened herself up to him. Her eyes flew open as his tongue began to explore her. The unknown sensation flooded through her and she cried out.

Thomas moaned in response, his mouth suckling her. Her hips began to buck, her body overwhelmed and unsure. With firm hands, the man held her hips steady. Vir’athawen fought to stay still, to focus on the sensation.

Within a moment, he began to pleasure her in earnest, his tongue making small circles around her swollen flesh. The unfocused lust coursing through her now came together, building inside. She gasped as one of his fingers slipped inside her, then another, caressing her from the inside as his tongue continued to work.

“I... Thomas, I....” she moaned, sinking her fingers into his hair. His tongue moved slightly faster in response, as his fingers moved in and out.

The orgasm building in her continued to grow. Vir’athawen panted uncontrollably, feeling as though she could not possibly take any more pleasure. Her hips straining against Thomas’s face, her legs shaking, Vir’athawen sobbed as she came.

Thomas crawled up to lean over the elf. “Hey,” he said gently, holding her as she shook. “Hey. It’s okay,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“I... I’ve never...” Vir’athawen admitted, shutting her eyes in embarrassment.

“What, never? Not even by yourself?” Thomas said in surprise.

She shook her head, still not looking at him. When he didn’t respond, she peeked one eye open. He was smiling at her. He brought up his hand to caress her cheek. “You’ve really been missing out.”

“I guess so,” she said.

He kissed her. She could taste herself on him. He stretched his body over hers, rubbing his length against her thigh.

Tentatively, she reached down to touch him. His skin was warm, the flesh hard and straining. He groaned as her fingers wrapped around him.

Vir’athawen was overwhelmed by a desire to taste him. She pushed his shoulder, rolling to kneel over him.

Thomas lay back, grinning as the elf, unabashed. looked at him hungrily. She traced one finger up, then down his length, her breath catching slightly when he twitched. Slowly, she lowered down to him, to repeat the gesture with her tongue. He groaned loudly, the sound making the elf even bolder.

She took him into her mouth, gently. It was Thomas’ turn to buck his hips, though he did so carefully, barely moving himself in and out of her mouth. Vir’athawen sucked harder, bringing up a hand to grasp him. He groaned again, his breath ragged.

“Stop,” he cried out, yanking her away from him. Vir’athawen flushed in confusion.

“Did I... was I doing it wrong? Should I be biting?”

He laughed, rolling her over to lay on her back. “You are doing it too well,” he said. “And biting is not recommended,” he added.

He leaned over her, resting on one elbow. With his other hand, he stroked the inside of her thighs, making her breath come faster once again. She looked into his eyes as his fingers dipped into her, spreading wetness over her sensitive flesh. She shifted herself, allowing him to lay between her thighs. She could feel him, just pressing on the entrance, waiting.

“Are you ready?”

Trembling, she nodded. He watched her face as he pushed into her carefully, watching her eyes as she felt her body stretch to accommodate him. He took her slowly, allowing her to process the sensation inches at a time. Her eyes widened in momentary panic when the pinch came, but then the pain was gone. He was fully inside her now, and he held still.

He kissed her as they lay, still not moving his hips. The sensation of his tongue exploring her mouth mirrored the fullness of him inside her. She began to move her own hips, desperate for him to take her.

He began to thrust, gently at first, but with increasing strength, leaving her gasping in time to the rhythm. A new well of pleasure began to build in her.

He saw the need in her eyes as she cast about, unsure of how to position herself to bring her closer. “Here,” he said. He pulled out of her, laying on his back.

With trembling legs she climbed astride him. The shock of him entering her at this angle made her gasp. After a moment, she found her own rhythm and began to arch over him, again and again.

He brought up one hand, pressing his thumb in small circles around her swollen flesh. With the other he grabbed her fingers, drawing them into his mouth to suckle.

She moaned, then began to pant as the sensations overtook her. Her second orgasm ripped through her, not in a wave, but as a bolt of lightning. She felt herself spasm, her muscles squeezing him even tighter.

Thomas squinted his eyes shut. He grabbed her hips, driving her onto himself, hard, as she was wracked by her orgasm. With a groan, he came inside her.

Vir’athawen collapsed on to his chest, keenly aware of the throbbing sensation inside her as they both recovered. After a moment, their breath slowed and they relaxed.

In the dream-memory, Vira felt a wave of sadness. She knew what was coming next.

Vir’athawen suddenly jerked her head up. She and Thomas were no longer alone. Five elven watchers from her clan stood at the edge of the clearing.

With a hiss, she leapt off the confused human. She stood, naked before the elves. Vira’s stomach churned at the humiliation.

“Vir’alathfen,” The head watcher taunted her. “So, is this how you spend your time when there are no wolves around to play with?”

The other watchers laughed. Thomas struggled to rise to his feet, wrapping himself in a cloak.

“Do not move, shemlen,” The watcher said. Five arrows were knocked in unison.

“You will not hurt him,” Vir’athawen said coldly. Whirling, she rolled to grab her knives, coming to rest in a crouch in front Thomas. Inside, Vira remembered the cold lick of fear as she stared down her clan.

“Bold words for you, young one,” the Watcher said. “You think you can stop all five of us?”

Vira fought to keep from shaking. Then she caught the faintest hint of sound of padded footfalls all around them. The sound strengthened her resolve. “Not alone,” she said.

“Well, you may want to rethink your -” the watcher began with a sneer.

“But I’m not alone,” Vir’athawen cut him off. From behind her, eight wolves slunk into the clearing, their hackles raised.

“Maker’s balls!” Thomas shouted, leaping back from the animals.

There was a pause. Vira sensed the other wolf, the strange one, still watching from the other bank. With a sense of inevitability, Vira heard herself speak.

“Thomas. Gather your things. The wolves will bring you to the edge of the forest.” She said, not looking at him, but instead glaring with malice at the watcher.

“What? I don’t...”

“Do it!” she shouted over her shoulder. She heard him hastily pulling on his clothing, then taking a few steps towards the wolf pack.

Vir’athawen half-turned to watch the human leave. “Thomas,” she called after him.

He paused, looking back at the naked elf, her daggers held high.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. He nodded, then walked back through the woods, flanked by the wolves.

Once the human was out of bow-shot, Vir’athawen sagged. The adrenalin which had coursed through her ebbed away, leaving her sick and shaky. She dropped her daggers, allowing the watchers to subdue her. She looked at the strange wolf as they dressed her, then tied her arms roughly behind her back and began to drag her through the forest. Vira felt the tears start in her eyes, as they had so many years ago. This time, however, they were prompted not by pain and humiliation, but the sound of the strange wolf howling in despair as she was led away.

The dream shifted yet again. She was back at the camp, in the keeper’s tent. Once again, Vira felt a strange sense that the memory was wrong, for behind the Keeper sat the wolf.

“I cannot let these crimes go unanswered,” Keeper Lavellan said.

“Crimes? What crimes?” Vir’athawen scoffed. “It is no crime to lay with a human.”

“A human you were tasked to watch. A human you then chose to protect, threatening your fellow clan members with daggers and wolves.” Vira, hearing these words yet again, now noticed that the Keeper’s voice held no malice, only sadness. At the time, her own anger had deafened her to the woman’s attempt to be fair.

The Keeper sighed. “Da’len, I know you have had a difficult life. I know how the clan treats you, despite my best efforts. Our people are superstitious.”

“They are cruel,” Vir’athawen said, tears burning in her eyes. “What have I ever done to deserve their hate?”

Keeper Lavellan sighed again, reaching out to the girl. “Nothing, Da’len. You have done nothing.” She enfolded the young elf in a hug.

Vir’athawen began to sob. The clan leader rocked the sobbing girl back and forth gently, as one would with a small child. “Ir abelas, Da’len.”

After a few moments, Vir’athawen’s tears abated somewhat. The Keeper looked into her eyes, holding her by the shoulders. “Do you know the meaning of your name?”

“The tip of the knife,” Vir’athawen responded.

“That is the modern meaning,” the Keeper said. “In the old tongue, it meant, ‘the Way of Balance’. A fulcrum, if you will.”

The Keeper sat, gesturing for Vir’athawen to do the same. “I used to wonder what that would mean for you, a name with such gravity. At first I thought that your encounter with Fen’Harel disrupted your balance, perhaps even your destiny, by pushing you beyond the ken of our clan. Now I see that is not true.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your life has been a hardship. But you were never meant to live your life here, in Dalish obscurity. You are a point of balance. It remains to be seen how much is hanging in that balance. But it is time that we try to find out. You have shown me how petty and mean our clan can be. I am sending you away. You will travel to the shemlen cities, learn of them, and bring that knowledge back to me. It is a shiral, a journey, not exile.”

Vira remembered the frisson of fear and excitement that went down her spine. Leave the clan? There was no love lost there, certainly. “When?”

The Keeper smiled. “As soon as you receive the Vallaslin. Tomorrow, if you wish.”

“I have no family to witness,” Vir’athawen said.

“I will act as witness. Have you decided on your marks?”

Vira remembered the steely resolve in her voice. “I will receive the marks of Fen’Harel.”

The Keeper gave her a sad smile. “I thought you might desire this. However, Fen’Harel has no Vallaslin.”

Vira felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. She knew she had never seen such marks, but thought it was due to the superstitious nature of her clan. It never occurred to her that the Dread Wolf had no marks.

The Keeper cleared her throat. “I do not recommend that you go without the marks. There would be nothing to differentiate you from our cousins who have lost their way and live in the shemlen cities. Might I instead recommend you receive the Vallaslin of Mythal? Perhaps she will give you the justice you deserve.”

Vira felt herself nod.

“Make yourself ready, then,” the Keeper said. “Return at dawn and I shall bestow the Vallaslin.”

From behind the Keeper, the wolf who watched gave a great howl.

Vira awoke with a start.


	5. Prepare to Seal the Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull convinces Vira that she needs to blow off some steam before attempting to seal the breach. Things get a little rougher than Vira expects.

It had been a long journey to Orlais, but Vira had secured the assistance of Vivienne. Vira was intimidated by this imperious mage, whose gaze implied ownership of everything it beheld. Still, the Inquisition could not afford to turn down willing help, especially not from someone so well-connected. Not to mention powerful.

On the return journey, the group was beset by Red Templars. Vivienne had dismounted from her horse as if she was going shopping in Val Royeaux. She cooly assessed the carnage all around her. Without changing expression, she flicked her staff. Four Templars were encased in solid ice, which Bull then set about chopping into little pieces. A horror ran straight at Vira, its once-human shape now distorted with bulges of red crystals bursting through its skin. At thirty paces it crossed one of Vivienne’s ice wards. In a burst of snow, the creature hurtled through the air, sliding to a stop at Vira’s feet. One blow from her dagger splintered it into a pile of ice.

When it was over, Bull laughed. “Glad to have you on our side, Madame du Fer.” He bowed deeply, kicking aside the frozen decapitated head of a red templar.

Vivienne rolled her eyes. She regarded her robes in dismay. “Please try not to spread the blood around so much, Iron Bull. This silk cost more than what you earn in a year.”

Bull laughed. “Now that is what I call a mage. Nice to have someone who is good in a fight,” he said to Varric.

Vira wiped the blood from her daggers. “What about Solas?”

Bull grunted. “What about him? I mean, he does a good job protecting _you_ , but...”

Vira frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Varric and Bull gave each other a significant look. Before Vira could respond, Cullen came running up, followed by a number of Inquisition knights.

“We heard the shouting. Did you -” he looked at the gore covering the field. The ice had melted, leaving tiny chunks of flesh dotting the field. “Maker’s breath. I was going to take you to task for riding too far ahead, but I fear had we been with you, we might have gotten in your way,” he said, looking at Vira appreciatively.

She smiled. “All in a day’s work, Commander.”

He laughed. “I’ll have scouts sent ahead to flush out any other ambushes.”

Vira nodded, “Since you seem to have caught up with us, would you care to ride alongside me for a while?”

“I, well, that is.... I’d like that very much, Herald.”

Vira took the former Templar’s awkwardly proffered arm as they walked back to the horses. Behind her, Iron Bull raised his eyebrows and looked at Varric. The dwarf slapped his forehead, dragging his hand down his face as he watched Cullen help Vira mount her horse.

“How long till they get it out of their system?” the Qunari asked.

Varric shook his head. “Maybe never. Trust me. It happens.”

“You mean we have to watch them drool over each other like this?”

“You got any better ideas?” Varric grumbled, heading to his pony.

Bull grunted. “Maybe I do,” he said under his breath.

That evening after dinner, Vira stood outside her tent, contemplating the breach as the sun set. From this distance, it seemed much smaller.

“Herald, might I have a moment?” Bull asked as he walked up to her.

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Walk with me.” The Iron Bull led Vira towards the edge of the camp. They sat on a fallen log.

Bull cleared his throat. “You have a good day?”

“Any day I’m still standing at the end is a good one,” Vira laughed.

“Yeah, it was a good fight,” Bull admitted. “But I meant after. You enjoy your ride with Cullen?”

Without meaning to, Vira looked over at the Commander, who was reading messenger bird dispatches on the far side of the camp. “I don’t see what business that is of yours.” Vira hoped that Bull couldn’t see her blushing in the firelight.

Bull grunted. “But it is,” he said. “Listen, we need you. I know we don’t have a leader, but you are the piece tying this whole thing together. It all comes down to _you_. You fall, we all fall. You’re the capstone.”

“Because of my mark, you mean?” she said, looking at her hand. It glinted green.

“No, because of you. Because of who you are. And that’s the thing,” Bull hesitated. “Look, this isn’t gonna come out right no matter how I say it. So here it is: I think you should ride the Bull.”

He looked at her.

“Ride the - what? Are you serious?” Vira’s voice carried across the camp. Cullen looked over at her, his expression unreadable at that distance.

“Keep your voice down,” Bull warned. “Damn. I knew it would sound bad. Listen. I’ve seen this before. You tie yourself in knots every time the egg-headed elf blinks. And I’ve seen the way you look at Captain Handsome over there. Not that he knows what to do about it.”

Vira frowned. She hadn’t realized it was all so obvious. “Does everyone know?”

“Probably not. Me, and Varric. He’s sharp, that one. Red might suspect but she’s got too much on her plate to worry about it. And that freaky kid can probably tell - Cole. Though he probably doesn’t know what it means.”

“Damn,” Vira swore. Then she laughed. “And your solution is... I should sleep with you? Pardon me if I question your altruism.”

“I know how it sounds. But when we get back to Haven, you’re going to go up against that thing in the sky. We need you totally focused. Hard to do that when your panties are in a bunch.”

She didn’t say anything.  Between the bizarre connection with Solas, and the straight-up attraction she had for Cullen, the truth was Vira was extremely keyed up.

Bull continued. “I’m not saying you can’t go play it out with those two. Take forever working that shit out, once the breach is sealed. But in the meantime, you gotta let some of that frustration out. And doing it by yourself is not enough. How long has it been since you’ve done it with someone else?”

Vira cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Ah... well... about 11 months,” she mumbled.

“What?!? A YEAR?” Bull roared. This time the whole camp looked up at them. They waved, both attempting innocent smiles and failing spectacularly.

“How can you go a year?!?” Bull hissed at her. “Shit, I’d have exploded or something.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” she explained. “Anyway, even if I admit that you’re right, that doesn’t mean we should. You just said it - it’s impossible to keep things a secret. You think everyone won’t notice if we slip away for an evening in Haven?”

“Well, we’re not in Haven, are we?”

“Yes, but I can’t, not with - hello, Commander,” Vira changed the subject brightly as the Templar strode up to her and Bull.

“Herald, Bull,” he nodded at them. “I’ve just gotten a dispatch from Leliana. The Templar veterans are ahead of schedule. They’re due to arrive in Haven before us. If I leave tonight and change horses regularly, I should just be able to make it.”

“Can’t Cassandra handle them?” Vira said. “I don’t like the sound of you... of any of us, riding off alone at night.”

“I must be there,” he said. “Cassandra is a Seeker. Given what happened with Lucius....”

“I see,” Vira said, rising. “You leave now, then?”

“Yes,” he said, stepping close to her.

Bull rolled his eyes.

“Be careful, Cullen.” Vira kept her voice low. “I want you by my side when I close the breach.” She held out her hand.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, lady Lavellan.” He grasped her hand, shaking it firmly and for a second too long. This time, however, he falteringly raised her hand, barely brushing her skin with his lips. She watched him mount his horse in a fluid movement and ride away, his cloak flowing behind him.

Bull snorted. “See, that’s the shit I’m talking about right there.”

“I’m fine, Bull,” she snapped.

“No, you’re not. You’re shaking like a freaking leaf on the inside, aren’t you?”

“I....” Vira stuttered. She whirled, drawing a dagger and throwing it at Bull, sinking it into the log between his legs, just below his crotch. “I seem to be fine,” she said, holding up her hand to show how steady it was.

Bull threw back his head and laughed. “Point made. But think about it. If you’ve been able to _stop_ thinking about it, that is,” he smirked. “I know you liked what you saw in the Storm Coast.”

Without changing expression, Vira walked up to Bull, then crouched between his legs. Staring him right in the eyes, she yanked the dagger out of the wood. “I said, I’ll think about it,” she said.

The next morning, the camp was ready to move by one hour past sunrise. By noon, they were deep in Orlesian territory, on track to be in Lydes by sunset. Out of deference to Vivienne, Vira and her companions were invited to stay at the duchy. After an interminable dinner, they retired to their quarters in the spacious palace.

Vira had changed into her night clothes when there was a knock at the door.

“It’s me, Vira,” she heard Bull say.

She opened the door and fixed him with a bland look, her arms crossed in front of her.

“You’ve got to work on your game face, Herald. You might look all uninterested now, but you’ve been blushing and glancing at me all day. Don’t ever play wicked grace.” He pushed past her into the room.

“Dammit,” she swore softly.

“Aaand now you’re blushing again. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a cute look for you,” Bull said, tracing her cheek with one rough finger.

“Bull, this place is full of spies. How can you think this is a good idea?”

“Who’ll believe it?” Bull said. “This is a no-name duchy. Doesn’t even have a duke. Word gets out that the Herald of Andraste was making it with her Qunari mercenary? It’ll look worse for whoever says it than it will for us, believe me.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s not that I’m not... interested. I just....” she sighed.

“See, there you go. You’re all worked up about it. I told you, we don’t take this stuff as seriously in the Qun.” He sat beside her and began rubbing her shoulders.

She had to admit, it was pleasant. Bull worked his fingers into the knots in her shoulders, kneading them firmly. “Mmmmm, that does feel good,” Vira confessed.

“I know. I learned it from a Tamassran.” Bull continued massaging Vira’s shoulders, now running his hands into the nape of her neck, her hair, the backs of her ears.

“Ahhh,” Vira sighed, leaning into his touch.

“That’s it,” Bull said. His hands roved down the front of her shoulders and upper arms. “You see what I mean? It’s different with another person.”

“Mmmmm,” Vira agreed, not wanting the massage to end. She gasped, then shivered, as Bull ran his hands under her shirt, tracing his fingers lightly along her spine.

“Ah hah, that’s the spot,” Bull said. “Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” He tugged her shirt hem up.

Vira, now quite mellow, raised her hands obligingly as the Qunari yanked the shirt over her head. He guided her gently to the bed, face down, all the while continuing to rub her back and shoulders.

Vira sighed indulgently. Bull knelt above her, alternating a deep massage with the tickling caresses that made her shudder and flinch. He leaned down, blowing air across her skin, making her squirm, before lightly sinking his teeth into the nape of her neck. She moaned.

“You make this easy, Vira,” Bull said into her ear. By now her hips were making small movements on the bed of their own accord, as her body demanded more.

The elf reveled in the heat coursing off Bull’s body as he stretched himself over her prone form. He ran his hands lower and lower, now kneading her lower back, the mound of her buttocks.

“Hmm,” he said, as his rough hands squeezed the soft flesh. “I wonder....”

 _Smack_! Bull spanked Vira’s ass firmly.

She squealed. “Bull! What are you -”

 _Smack_! Bull laced another spank on her skin. “Do you like it?” He asked, running his hands over the now-warm flesh.

“I... I....” she panted in confusion.

 _Smack_! “I think you do,” he chuckled. “You’re grinding the bed pretty good right about now.”

She gasped as she realized what she was doing. “It feels... good... I....”

Bull dealt three more blows in quick succession. Vira’s back arched and she squealed again.

“Well now, isn’t that something,” Bull remarked. He once again traced his fingers lightly over Vira’s spine.

She convulsed, overwhelmed by the range of sensations.

The Qunari ran his hand lower and still lower, tracing the place where her thighs met. Vira spread her legs eagerly, longing for contact. She raised her hips slightly to meet his hand.

It was Bull’s turn to moan as he watched Vira attempt to push herself on to his fingers. “Oh, you want this, don’t you?” He chuckled.

Vira found she lacked the ability to form coherent words. Had she been even slightly less out of her mind with lust, she would have wanted to dissolve in embarrassment. As it was, she gave herself over to the Qunari’s ministrations.

“I have to admit, this is a pretty sight,” Bull rumbled, kneading her buttocks. “Let’s see how things taste.”

Vira attempted to roll over, but Bull held her steady. Her eyes widened in shock as she felt him spread her open, his tongue exploring her ass.

“Bull!” she moaned. “What - no - I -” Her objection melted into a moan of pleasure as his tongue continued its journey.

“Shhh, Vira. Do you like it?” He asked, pausing.

“I - yes,” she breathed.

“Then just enjoy.” Bull probed her with his tongue, replaced a moment later by a finger.

Vira hissed in surprised pleasure. She felt as her body resisted the pressure, then accepted the intrusion. She moaned and began to buck upwards.

“Holy shit,” Bull breathed. He watched Vira, now moaning rhythmically, arched backwards towards this new source of pleasure.

“Please,” she pleaded, still half-pinned to the bed by the awkward placement of their bodies.

Bull withdrew from her, allowing the elf to flip over. He leaned down to kiss her. She sucked his tongue eagerly, writhing underneath him, her hands fumbling with the knots of his belt.

“Easy, easy,” he said, kneeling up to remove his pants. “Let’s get you what you need.”

He leaned again, now taking one nipple in his mouth. Vira gasped as he nipped her with his teeth. His mouth traveled lower and lower, until he nuzzled at her inner thighs.

“Please, Bull. Please.” She was almost begging.

He latched on to her swollen flesh, sucking hard, even as his fingers thrust inside her. The orgasm swelled quickly, and she grasped his horns as she ground herself against his face.

As the pulses subsided, she started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Bull said, lifting himself on to his elbows above her.

“I guess... I guess I needed that,” she admitted.

“See? What did I tell you?” Bull said, grinning. “Now, the question is, will I get what I need?”

Vira could feel him, his hard flesh resting against her thigh. “Well, that’s only fair,” she said.

“I greatly approve of that,” Bull said, kneeling back.

Vira’s eyes widened. He was even bigger than she remembered.

“I know what you’re thinking. And the answer is: yes. Yes you can,” Bull chuckled. “Roll over,” he growled.

She did as he asked, coming to rest on all fours. He spread her knees a bit wider with his legs. “Damn, you elves are tiny.” He dipped his fingers inside her, spreading the wetness on himself. “Let me,” he said, guiding her hips with his hands.

She allowed him to pull her body onto his length. She groaned. After so long, her body was unaccustomed to the intrusion, much less one so large. He went very slowly, pushing a fraction of an inch at a time, until she felt his thighs against her hers.

“Mmmmm,” he said. “This feels soooo good.” He began moving against her, not thrusting exactly, just letting her body adjust to him.

He ran his fingers along her spine again. Vira hissed, arching her back at the tickling sensation.

“Ooh, I like that,” Bull said. “Does all kinds of things to you.” He did it again, groaning as she convulsed against him.

“Let’s see how other things feel.” He spanked her.

Vira squealed, the sound muffled by the pillow. Her muscles tensed around him, then relaxed.

“Oh, yeah,” Bull growled. “I like this too.” Holding still inside her, he spanked the elf, alternating one side and the other, reddening her skin. With each slap, Vira pulled away slightly, only to buck backwards as she recovered.

Bull began to move as well, pulling back and then pushing forward to match her. He left off spanking to grab her hips, guiding her motions.

It was slow. Slow and hard. With each thrust, Bull grunted as Vira’s body slammed against him.

“Enough,” Bull said. He held her hips still, halfway inside her. He rocked back and forth almost imperceptibly.

Vira moaned in frustration. She tried to move against him but could not.

“Tell me how it feels, Vira,” Bull rumbled.

Vira groaned, caught between lust and embarrassment. “I...” she began.

“That’s it,” he said, punctuating his remark with a hard thrust.

“It feels good,” Vira said.

“I know it feels good. What else?”

“I want... I want you to....” Vira moaned.

“What do you want, Vira?” He pulled out of her, waiting. She could feel him at her entrance, poised.

“I want you to... put your finger... where if was before,” she said.

The Qunari chuckled. “You liked that, did you?” She felt him pull back. With his fingers, he reached down to spread her moisture around, coating his fingers in her juices. He laid his palm on the small of her back, pressing his thumb against her tighter entrance.

She leaned against him, relaxing against the pressure. Her body enveloped his thumb to the first knuckle. He slowly pressed further. “Mmmm,” he groaned. “What else?”

Vira moaned at the sensation, attempting to move back on to his hand, but he kept her steady.

“What else do you want, Vira?” His voice was insistent. “Tell me.”

“I want... you to fuck me,” she whispered.

“What was that?” Bull chuckled. “I didn’t quite hear.”

She groaned in frustration. “Fuck me, Bull. Please?”

Without warning, he buried himself in her to the hilt. When she arched her head back in response, he grabbed her hair with his free hand and began thrusting, hard, fast.

“Yes,” she hissed. Vira gave herself over to the sensation of being utterly filled. The sound of their flesh smacking together crackled through the room.

Bull was grunting, an animalistic sound. “I need to feel you come, Vira,” he growled. “Touch yourself.”

She obeyed him, swirling a finger on herself, surprised to feel how slick and swollen she was, how her flesh was stretched.

Vira panted in desperation. She was so close.

“That’s it, Vira,” Bull growled, increasing the pace of his thrusts. “Come for me.” He tightened his grip on her hair.

Vira’s body strained at the edge. Her fingers dug wildly into her flesh, desperate for release. Finally, she screamed her orgasm, her pulsing muscles gripping him even tighter.

“Yes, yes,” Bull said between gritted teeth. He slammed into her, the sensation drawing out her orgasm further. With a huge groan, he flooded her, his own spasms matching hers.

Vira tipped forward, burying her face in the cool pillow. After a moment, Bull slowly pulled out of her and sank to the bed, rolling onto his back. Vira stretched backward to lay flat, her head turned away from him.

For several moment, neither spoke.

“Are you okay?” Bull finally asked.

“No,” Vira said, her voice muffled.

“What?” Bull raised himself on to one elbow to face her. He shook her by the shoulder.

Vira rolled to face him. She had a pained look on her face.

“What’s the matter?” Bull’s voice was full of worry.

“Well, it’s just that...” Vira sighed.

“What is it? What?” Bull began to panic.

“You learned this from the Tamassarans?” Vira asked.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Bull said, confused.

“Well, how are we going to afford to hire enough of them to provide this service to the whole Inquisition?” Vira said seriously. “I imagine it’s not cheap, convincing people to leave the Qun.” Her mouth twitched, and she broke into a grin, unable to keep a straight face any longer.

“Vira!” Bull said, shoving her shoulder in mock disapproval.

“Unless you’d like to volunteer for new duties?” Vira asked, her face a picture of innocence.

Bull lay back, laughing. “You got me,” he said. “I can’t believe you got me.”

Vira leaned up on to her elbows. “This was a good idea, Bull. Thank you.”

“I hope it made up for the last eleven months,” he said.

“It made up for a lot more than that.” She smiled luxuriously.

“Well. Good. If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.” He kissed her on the forehead, a surprisingly friendly gesture, given what they’d just done. He rose and began gathering his clothes. Vira sank back to the bed as Bull pulled the blankets over her. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you....” Vira’s voice petered out as she began to fall asleep.


	6. Skyold's Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira and the Inquisition settle into Skyhold.

“Inquisitor? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.” Dorian looked over at Vira, who was staring blankly at the bookshelves in the library . “Unless you really are looking for a book on -” he reached over to pull the book she was apparently studying, “- Antivan Socio-political Development After the Third Blight?”

Vira laughed. “You’ve got me, Dorian.” They had been two weeks at Skyhold. After the attack at Haven, finding the abandoned fortress in the mountains had allowed the Inquisition safety to rebuild. Vira was still getting used to being referred to as ‘Inquisitor’. She was also still becoming accustomed to Dorian, their most recent recruit. Already she had grown fond of the outspoken Tevinter mage with the glorious moustache.

“I knew it,” he said. He walked her over to his reading nook and patted the seat of one of the chairs. “You can tell Papa Dorian. Let’s hear it.” He sat across from her.

Vira snorted. “ _Papa_? Dorian, we’re basically the same age.”

“It’s a Tevinter thing. Come on, you can tell me. Is it about you and that dashingly gorgeous Commander? Please tell me he looks even better without that ridiculous fur nonsense he wears on his shoulders.” He sat back in his chair.

“What? No. I mean, I don’t know,” Vira sighed. “I imagine he does.”

“Hah! I’ll bet you imagine it a lot.”

Vira shook her head. “Dorian, I’m supposed to be the Inquisitor now. I can’t have my head muddled all up in this.”

Dorian held up a hand. “Nonsense. I won’t hear of it. You may be Inquisitor, but you’re still a person. The moment you lose touch with your feelings, as muddled and frustrating as they may be, is the moment you start down a dangerous road.”

“You think?” Vira sounded unconvinced.

“I _know_ ,” he corrected. “Anyway. What’s the complication? If I had access to a handsome blonde, I’d be all about it. Not many blondes in Tevinter, you know.”

“Ah, well,” Vira stuttered.

“Oh!” Dorian gasped. “Is there someone else in the picture? Do tell!”

Vira blushed. “It’s... complicated.” She told Dorian about her kiss with Solas during their shared dream in the Fade.

“ _Solas_? Really?” Dorian seemed taken aback. “And in the Fade, no less? What was that like?”

Vira shut her eyes and shook her head. “It was....”

“Soft, seeking, solace. A release of the pain, but it brings more pain. I burst into flame.” There was a puff of smoke as Cole appeared.

“Cole!” Vira and Dorian shouted in unison.

“I want to help,” he cringed. “You are hurting.”

Vira sighed. “That’s... that’s true, Cole. I know you can take away the pain, make me forget. But I don’t want that.”

Cole looked crushed. “That’s what he said, too. ‘There at the beginning, one act and the ripples never cease. The slow arrow falls to earth. I have shot my own heart.’” He disappeared.

Dorian blinked. “Remarkable. Incomprehensible, but remarkable. Unless that made any sense to you?”

Vira shook her head. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Anyway, where were we? Oh right. Smooching in the Fade. Very mysterious.”

“Well, and here in Skyhold, a bit, perhaps,” she admitted. Her cheeks were flaming.

“You are simply adorable when you blush, do you know that? Well, what’s the problem, then? Go get him. I might question your taste in head shape, but if it makes you happy...” Dorian said.

“It doesn’t seem that simple. He’s ‘considering’ things. Normally, I know what that means. But it’s different with Solas. It’s like there’s... I don’t know, some kind of magnetism at work. I’ve never felt it before. It feels dangerous.” Vira laughed. “Now I sound like Cole.”

“No, I get it. Maybe it’s because he’s an elf, like you? You didn’t spend much time with other Dalish, did you?”

“That might be it,” Vira considered. “I’ve never been with an elf before.”

“Really?” Dorian leaned forward, fascinated. “Only humans, then? Or dwarves?”

“Humans, mostly,” she shrugged. “One dwarf - that was interesting. And one - oh, shit.” She squinched her eyes shut as she realized what she had just admitted.

Dorian gasped. “One what? A Qunari? Seriously? Where did you even find a - no!” he said, looking at the embarrassment creeping across her face. “You have got to be joking.” He leaned forward to whisper. “You and Bull? Really?”

“Ah - well, you see... er....” she stuttered.

“I must know more! What was that like? He’s a mountain!” The mage stared off into the distance as he considered the possibilities.

Vira chuckled, her face now crimson. “It was a challenge. But he’s very, ahem, skilled.”

Dorian took a deep breath. “Amazing.”

“You could probably find out for yourself, if you’re that curious,” Vira added.

Dorian’s eyes widened. “Really? Are you sure?”

Vira nodded. “Pretty sure, yeah. He’s... not too concerned with the equipment on his partners. Only that they’re... enthusiastic. I can’t believe I just said that,” she said.

“Well. Well well well,” Dorian breathed, staring out the window towards the tavern where Bull spent most of his free time. “I might have to go find some things out for myself.”

“You wouldn’t, really, would you? You’re Tevinter!”

He waved his hand dismissively. “We’re a long way from the empire, my dear. I may never get this opportunity again.” He rose and straightened his clothes. “I will see you later, Inquisitor. I suddenly feel in need of a drink.” He strode purposefully out of the library. “Oh,” he said, stopping before he reached the stairs. “One other thing. Solas may be, well, one of the strangest people I have ever met, but he’s still a man. Don’t let him ‘consider’ too long. Just go after it. Trust me.” He tugged his robes into places and descended the steps.

“Well. That just happened.” Vira said to herself.

Cole popped into view. “It did. Shouldn’t it have?”

Vira laughed. “I like you, Cole.”

“I like you too. Such power, such kindness, dancing on the tip of a knife.” He smiled. “You changed your face. It’s all red now.”

Vira held a hand up to her cheek. It was still hot from blushing. “I should do something about that,” she said to herself. With a start, she jumped up. “Why didn’t I think of that before?” She rushed out of the library.

“She changed her face,” Cole said to the empty room.

Vira dashed up the stairs of the tower to Leliana’s desk. She found the spymaster looking out the window contemplatively. “Inquisitor,” she nodded a greeting.

“Sister Nightingale,” Vira bowed in response.

“‘Tis a wonderful stronghold. Although it is early for Dorian to be going to the Tavern, no?” She said, peering out the window.

“I believe he was taken with a powerful thirst,” Vira said dryly.

“Such things happen,” Leliana said with a straight face. She turned to Vira. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a... personal request. Although it will benefit the Inquisition. Probably.”

“Name it,” the spy said, sitting at her desk.

Vira sat across from her. “I never received formal training, like you did,” she began.

Leliana smiled. “You wish to become a bard?” she said skeptically.

“No no, nothing like that. I mean, I learned to... get along with people, to get them to like me, by hanging around in taverns in Ansburg.” Vira explained. She paused, wondering how to continue.

“You have gaps you seek to address? Etiquette and the like?” Leliana guessed. “Are you sure Josephine might not be better suited?”

“Perhaps. It’s not so much etiquette as... self-control. You see, I... damn, how do I say this and not sound like a rube?”

Leliana smiled. “You know I can keep a secret, yes?”

Vira nodded. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her composure. “I never learned to control my reactions around men. I can flirt just fine, especially if I’m not that interested. But sometimes, I am interested, and it shows. How do I keep from blushing all the time?”

Leliana laughed, not unkindly. “That! Ah, yes. That _is_ a trick. I’m glad you came to me. I think I can help you. And it would be good to address. You’ll be at the Empress’ Ball soon. We can’t have you blushing and stammering every time someone asks whether you’re sleeping with our Commander yet.”

Vira groaned in despair as she felt her cheeks redden. “You see?” she said, laughing despite herself, pointing at her face.

“It does rather set off your Vallaslin, though, does it not?” Leliana smirked. “Come, let us begin.”

Vira soon got an opportunity to test her newfound skill. She was headed to the Fallow Mire, to free Inquisition troops from the Avvar tribe. Varric, Dorian, and the Iron Bull accompanied her.

They were hardly outside the keep’s walls when the banter began. “So, boss, how’s that love triangle going for you?” Bull snickered.

“Not nearly as good as the ‘Vint tail you’ve bagged. How do you like those moustaches, Bull? Tickle, do they?” Vira said with no trace of embarrassment.

Bull roared with laughter.

“Well,” sniffed Dorian. “At least some of us are getting keeping the dream alive. I can’t imagine pining away for someone for weeks and months and years and - oh, I’m sorry, Varric. Too soon?”

“Laugh it up, Sparkler. As much as you can with your mouth so full, anyway.” the dwarf shot back.

Vira smiled as her three companions sniped insults back and forth. She put a hand up to her face. Cool as a cucumber.

She caught Varric’s glance, and he winked. “So, Sparkler, tell me where the horns go, again? I get confused.”


	7. Return from the Fallow Mire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira and Solas finally consummate their relationship, but it doesn't go exactly how Vira had expected.

After ten days in the Fallow Mire, Vira was eager to return to Skyhold. As she and her companions rode under the gates just before sunset, she was shocked to see how much progress had been made on restorations. “Gatsi’s working so fast,” she said to Varric.

“Well, you’re paying him enough.”

“True,” Vira nodded.

“Shit,” Bull rumbled. “I cannot wait for hot food and a cold drink. I am tired down to my balls.”

Varric and Vira looked at Dorian. “Don’t look at me,” the Tevinter protested. “Not my doing.”

“Not for lack of trying though,” Varric smirked.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Vira said, cutting off the inevitable bickering. “I have things to do.”

The three men watched as she scampered up the main steps eagerly. “‘Things’, eh?” Varric said. “Probably just the one ‘thing’, I’m guessing.”

Bull grunted. “I hope Solas is well-rested. He’s gonna need a lot of energy.”

Varric looked at Bull accusingly. “Please do not tell me how you know that.”

The Qunari leered at the dwarf, waggling his eyebrows.

Varric sighed. “Of course.”

Vira headed to the rotunda. She found Solas with a palette in his hand. “Solas,” she called out as she walked the short entrance corridor. “Are you... painting?”

Solas smiled at her. “Vhenan,” he said. “Yes. See for yourself,” he nodded behind her.

Vira gasped in wonder. One-third of the rotunda had been painted in a mural of breath-taking beauty. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “You did all this?”

“It occupies my time away from the Fade,” he explained. “Painting allows my hands to be busy while the mind works.” He set the palette down on the desk. “It is your journey, the story of the Inquisition. Do you like it?”

She turned to him, wonder blooming on her face. Without a thought she kissed Solas, cradling his face in her hands. “I like it very much,” she said, pulling away.

Solas smiled. “Good. How was your journey to the Fallow Mire?”

“Productive,” Vira said, leaning on the desk. “I hope you don’t feel uncomfortable that I asked Dorian to accompany me.”

“Not at all,” Solas said. “I needed the time to explore the Fade.”

“Any progress?”

He shook his head. “Though the breach is sealed, the spirits are still drawn to the rifts. It is chaos.”

Vira laughed. “Isn’t the Fade always chaos?”

Solas acknowledged the point with a smile. “True.”

“I never tire of hearing your stories about the Fade,” Vira said. “Tell me about a memory you’ve experienced.”

The smile slid off the elf’s face. “Ah. Yes. Actually, there was a memory I wanted to share with you. But then things between us became... complicated.”

“Is that what you call it?” Vira smirked.

He shook his head, chuckling, then became serious. He took Vira’s hand. “When we were in Haven, I dreamed of a young Vir’athawen, cut off from her clan, raising herself in the wild.”

Vira gasped, yanking her hands from his. She whirled away, pacing in confusion. “You... you spied on me?”

“No, vhenan, it was not purposeful. I was dragged into the dream as we slept. Given our discussion earlier in the day, your memories were close and powerful. I was swept into them, because... you were also on my mind,” he confessed. “Once I realized what was happening, I hid myself. I feared what you would think if you realized I was there. Please, believe me. I did not mean to spy.”

“You were the wolf in my dream!” she accused. “How could you do not tell me?”

Vira stormed out of the room, rushing past Varric as he walked into the rotunda. “Hey, Chuckles - whoa,” the dwarf said as he jumped out of the way of the Inquisitor.

Varric frowned at Solas. “Chuckles, what did you do?”

“I am a fool,” Solas said, sinking into his chair. He buried his face in his hands. “A fool,” he repeated.

“We all know that,” Varric pointed out. “What did you do, specifically? Did you lie to her?”

Solas looked at the dwarf, his eyes a mask of pain and self-reproach.

“Oh, shit,” Varric muttered. “Listen, Chuckles, I don’t know how it is in the Fade, but here in the real world, when you mess up with your lady, you fix it. You don’t just stew in your own juices. Go after her.”

“Do you think -” Solas hesitated.

“Chuckles! Go!” Varric barked, pointing at the door.

The elf blinked, then scrambled to the exit.

Varric stood in the empty rotunda, shaking his head. “What an idiot,” he said.

“You’ve got that right,” a voice called out from above. Dorian was leaning casually on the railing on the second floor, looking down into the rotunda.

Varric looked up. “How the fuck we manage to get anything done around here is beyond me.”

The mage shrugged. “Good thing we have you around to provide counsel on moving past hopeless relationships.”

Dorian ducked as Varric threw a jar of paint at him. “Tsk tsk. Touchy,” he wagged a finger, then ducked again, laughing, as a second jar followed the first.

Vira paced in her quarters, trying to decide if she was livid or mortified. She was just settling on “both” when there was a knock at the door.

Solas stood in the doorway. He looked stricken. With a sigh, she let him in.

He followed her meekly into the room. She sat at her desk, arms crossed. He started to speak several times, but couldn’t manage to complete a sentence, pacing back and forth nervously.

“No, no,” Vira said, waving her hand. “You’re doing this all wrong. You sit, I talk,” she said. She pointed at the chair opposite her. Solas sat obediently.

“Solas, I want to believe you. I do believe you,” she admitted. “But I wish you had told me at once, during the dream, before... things escalated. I would have understood.”

He hung his head. “I am sorry,” he said. “I underestimated you, and betrayed your trust.”

“It’s not just about you and me,” Vira clarified, leaning forward to rest her arms on the desk. “We cannot let our personal feelings come into play. This could have been dangerous, or important. It could have been Corypheus manipulating us. I appreciate you wanting to spare me the embarrassment, but don’t do it again.”

Solas looked up at her, amazement on his face. “You are incredible. Despite everything that has happened, you manage to balance your personal feelings with the needs of our cause.”

Vira held up her hands. “It’s what I do,” she said. “If anything else like this happens, with me or any of us, do I have your word that you will tell me?”

Solas nodded. “I give you my word.”

“Good,” Vira rose, coming around to lean on the front of her desk. “Tell me, why did you choose a wolf?”

“Instinct,” Solas said.

“Because of what I told you earlier in the day, perhaps,” Vira reasoned. “Can you change your form in the Fade at will?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I often choose an owl, so that I might fly and see things with clear eyes.”

“Amazing,” Vira said, her eyes far away. “To be able to fly in dreams....”

“Perhaps I could teach you. It is a simple trick. The anchor has strengthened your connection to the Fade, after all.”

“The real question is,” Vira asked, “what did you make of my memories?”

“Parts made me very sad indeed,” Solas said.

“And the rest?” Vira turned towards the balcony to contemplate the last glimmering light shining on the mountains.

“The rest... was... stimulating,” he offered.

“You don’t think less of me?” Vira wrapped her arms around herself against the chill from the mountain air.

Solas walked up behind her. “Why would I do that, vhenan?” He whispered it into her ear. “To behold a creature so beautiful, in the first flowering of love? It is a gift I will treasure forever.”

Vira shivered, although whether from the cool air or Solas’ breath against her neck, it wasn’t certain. She turned to him.

The kiss they shared was lingering. As always, it was tinged with a bittersweet quality, as if every brush of their lips would be the last.

Slowly, subtly, the kiss changed, becoming hungry, desperate. Vira steeled herself for the moment that Solas would pull away as he had so many times before.

The moment never arrived. Solas broke off the kiss, true, but only so that he could move on to her neck. “Ar lath ma,” he murmured into her skin.

“Ma vhenan,” Vira moaned in response, the sound concluding in a gasp as his teeth found her earlobe.

They began moving toward the bed, swaying as if drunk, unwilling to pull away from each other.

Fumbling hands fought with straps and buttons. As each article of clothing fell away the exposed skin was explored with hands or mouth. Finally, after an eternity, there were no barriers.

“So beautiful,” Solas whispered, leaning over her. He ran his hands down her breasts, her stomach, the tangle of hair between her legs. With a shuddering sigh, she spread herself open to him.

His fingers explored her as he watched her face. Her breath came faster as she stared into his eyes, unable to look away.

“Solas,” she moaned, urgency naked in her voice. His fingers continued to manipulate her swollen flesh. “Please. Please.” She squirmed underneath him.

“Yes,” he whispered, holding her gaze. “That’s it, vhenan. Let it happen.”

Vira began to pant. “I... I...”

Solas could feel her body begin to go over the edge. “Yes,” he urged. “Yes.”

Vira cried out, arching against him, her body shuddering as she came.

Solas rolled on top of her. He kissed her gently as the spasms subsided. Eventually, she relaxed. He leaned up to kneel, pulling her up to him with surprising strength. She wrapped her legs around his back and guided him into her. They both gasped. It was like a key fitting a lock.

The pleasure of it was unlike anything Vira had experienced, a kind of sweet ache that seemed to have no release.

It was slow, and gentle. At first. The intensity built so gradually that Vira hardly noticed, and then something changed. Solas groaned, the sound causing a spike of pleasure in Vira. She leaned backwards to lay on the bed. Solas’ thrusts became more insistent, sharper. Vira matched his rhythm.

Soon they were both gasping at each thrust. Solas cradled her face with one hand, his fingers tangled in her hair.

Vira turned her face towards his hand, nipping at his thumb, then sucking it. Solas growled deep in his throat.

Vira was already close, but the intensity of that sound was like an arrow through her. “I want to hear you, Solas,” she moaned. “Please.”

He groaned in response, burying his face in her neck. He bit her shoulder.

“Yes,” she said. “Please, Solas. I want to hear.”

Solas’ moans became animalistic, primal. Vira’s legs began to shake as her orgasm took root deep in her body.

“Vhenan,” Solas groaned. “I’m -” With a cry, he thrust into her a final time. She felt his spasms inside her just as her own body found its release.

They lay together, recovering. Vira could feel Solas’ heart thudding, then slowly returning to normal. She reveled in the intimacy, wrapping her arms around him.

Solas clung to her tightly. Vira eventually realized that he was shivering.

“Are you cold?” she whispered, reaching to cover them with the blankets.

“No, vhenan. I am not cold. I -” he paused, leaning up on his elbows to look at her.

Vira was shocked to see the look of pain on his face. He looked as if he might start crying.

“Solas, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “This was wrong of me. I lost control. I...” He grimaced, silently berating himself.

“Is that all?” Vira asked, smiling. “I have it on very good authority that it’s good to lose control sometimes.”

“No,” he snapped. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Perhaps for others, losing control is not important. But I am....” He opened his eyes to look at her. “I am a mage. I could have hurt you. I should not have put you at risk.”

Vira reached up one hand to touch his cheek. “I’m not afraid, Solas.”

He kissed her, full of the familiar bittersweet combination of regret and longing. “But I am, Vir’athawen. I am afraid for us both.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

He did not answer at once, instead stroking her hair. “Perhaps you are right. Maybe there is nothing to be fear. You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “And you have just returned from a long journey. I am sure you desire sleep. I must go.” He rolled off the bed and began retrieving his robes.

“Where are you going? Can’t you stay?” Vira asked, disappointed.

Solas knelt next to the bed. He took her hand and kissed it. “I walk the Fade, remember? It wouldn’t do for me to intrude on your dreams again. Get some rest, vhenan.” With a final kiss, he was gone.

Vira lay on her bed, hoping sleep would take her. The fire died down, and the room was bathed in the dark blue glow of the evening sky.

“This is ridiculous,” she said suddenly. She flounced the blankets back and got dressed.

Vira wandered through Skyhold without a specific destination. The torches were being lit, and the keep seemed almost deserted as everyone sought a warm supper and a warmer bed.

Eventually, she found herself at the door to the Tavern. It seemed almost empty. “Why not,” Vira said to herself.

Dorian was there, sipping a glass of wine by the fire, book in hand. He looked up as Vira walked in. “Why hello, my dear. I would have thought you’d be sound asleep by now.” He gestured at the chair across from him.

She sat. “I could say the same for you, Dorian. Isn’t there a certain giant of a Qunari waiting for you somewhere?”

He laughed. “My darling Inquisitor, I hate to disappoint you, but after two straight days on horseback, I’m not really up for something so... athletic.”

She smiled. “I guess we all have our limits.”

“Oh my yes. Speaking of limits, I take it a certain follicly-challenged apostate had his tested this evening?” He poured a glass of wine and handed it to her.

Vira rubbed her forehead in fatigue. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I saw him come back to his precious rotunda. He looked like a thundercloud. And his undertunic was on backwards.” Dorian sipped his wine.

Despite herself, Vira broke out in peals of laughter. It sounded loud in the almost-empty pub. “Well, you know, one hour with me and you can’t think straight, apparently.”

It was Dorian’s turn to laugh. He held his goblet up, and they clinked glasses.

“Seriously though,” she said. “Why is it that every time I get close to someone, I end up confused or sleeping alone? Or both?”

Dorian chuckled. “My dear, if I ever figure that one out, you’ll be the first to know. I promise.”


	8. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen laments Inquisitor Lavellan going to Crestwood with Solas. Grey Whiskey is involved. Hilarity ensues.

Varric glanced through the window of the tavern. “Oh, no,” he said, rushing in. A man sat with his face buried in his hands: drunk, despairing, or both. A blond man. Wearing a suspiciously familiar fur cape.

“Cullen, what are you -” Varric said, pulling up short as the Commander looked at him with bleary, blood-shot eyes. “Whoa, Curly. You do not look good.” The dwarf flagged down Bull, who was chatting with a barmaid.

“Hey, what’s going on you - holy fuck,” Bull said. “Cullen, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Cullen dragged his fingers through his hair. “It’s _her_ ,” he said, his voice slurred a bit. “She went with _him_. To Crestwood. I kept saying to myself, talk to her. Say something. Say _anything_. But I didn’t and now it’s too late.” He reached for the nearby bottle to refill his cup.

“Hey, Curly, let me get that for you,” Varric snatched the bottle away. He smelled it. “What in Maker’s hairy balls are you drinking?” He read the label. “Is this Grey Whiskey? Are you insane?”

Bull grabbed the bottle and took a swig. Coughing, he spluttered. “It tastes like burning.”

“I got it from Blackwall,” Cullen said. “Good ol’ Blackwall. He knows about heartache, lemme tell you.”

“Your weakest ale in your smallest cup, water in your biggest,” Varric said to the barmaid as she passed.

“Yep. I lost her. To an elf with an egg for a head,” Cullen’s head sagged and he began snoring slightly.

Sera walked in. “What’s up with Commander Blondie?”

“Regrets,” Bull said.

“Oh, right, ‘cause our Quizzie went off with the elfy one,” Sera straddled the bench.

“That’s righ’,” Cullen perked up. “They went off to elfy places, doing elfy things.” His hand waved indeterminate circles in the air.

Varric took the water from the barmaid. He pulled a small vial from his chest pocket and poured the contents in. “Spindleweed infusion,” he winked at Bull. “Takes the edge off. I use it when I’m playing Wicked Grace.”

Cullen drank from the tankard thirstily. Within a few seconds, his eyes began to focus. “I can’t believe I’ve lost her.”

“Buddy, look,” Bull said. “You didn’t lose her. Sure, she’s off in Crestwood with Solas, and they’re probably together. Hell, they’re probably doing it right now.” He got a far-away look on his face as he considered it.

Varric kicked him under the table.

“Oh, right. Anyway, the point is... what was the point? I got distracted.” Bull said.

Cullen groaned and buried his face in his hands again.

“Good going. They teach you that in Ben-Hassrath school?” Varric snorted. “The point _is_ , Curly, is that Solas doesn’t make her _happy_. They have some weird connection, sure, but it’s the kind of thing you just... get out of your system. And then _you’ll_ be there for her.”

Cullen frowned. He looked at Bull for corroboration.

Bull nodded. “It’s true. Plus, there’s no way Solas will ever be enough for a woman like her.” Varric kicked Bull again as Cullen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Bull floundered. “I mean - uh, we spend a lot of time in the field with Vira. You get to know a person pretty well,” he said.

Varric added, “We even asked Cole about it. He said something about their pain ‘matching’ or something. It almost made sense.”

“How does that help?” Cullen groaned.

Sera smacked him on the back of the head. “Listen, blondie, you ever watch Quizzie when she talks to Solas? It’s all, mopey-this and drama-that and tragic-whatsits. They look like they’re holdin’ in farts or something,” Sera said, taking a swig from Cullen’s bottle. “Ooh, I like this,” she said. She took another pull. “But Quizzie’s eyes light up like stars when you start yapping. That’s something, right?”

“Sera’s right. Vira comes alive when you’re around. You make her happy. You’re just too busy stammering and blushing to realize it.” Varric said. “Trust me. You’ve got a shot.”

“Wish I did,” Sera under her breath.

“Yeah you do,” Bull chuckled to the elf.

“No!” Sera said in amazement.

Bull winked at her. Varric kicked the Qunari again, with a significant look at Cullen.

The Commander sighed, ending in a burp. “I don’t know. It seems impossible to even dream. Anyway. I must go, get some sleep.” He rose a bit unsteadily and made his way out of the tavern.

“That man has it bad,” Bull rumbled.

“He’s going to have it worse when he realizes ‘someone’ put grease on his doorknob,” Sera said, emptying the bottle. “Going to take him quite a while to get inside his room, I shouldn’t think.”


	9. Crestwood's Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Vira went to Crestwood together, but returned alone. I think we all know what that means. Solas, why you gotta be so cruel?

Thanks to Leliana’s training, Vira walked from the stable to her quarters with a cool complexion and dry eyes, her face serene. She and Solas had traveled to Crestwood together, but returned alone. Her journey back to Skyhold had been a test of self-composure, to make sure that none saw her anguish. Over and over, she had repeated her story: Solas had taken her to Crestwood to remove her Vallaslin. The fact that he had broken her heart she kept to herself. Once the door to her chambers closed behind her, however, she dissolved into tears, fumbling her way to the bed.

She buried her sobs in her pillow. Vira knew going into it that - whatever she had with Solas - it couldn’t possibly last. Knowledge doesn’t always help, however.

Eventually the first wave of tears subsided. Wiping her eyes, she rolled over. “Fenedhis!” she swore as she found herself face to face with Cole.

“You’re hurting.” He said calmly. “I could feel it from far away.”

Vira sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. “Yes, Cole. I am hurting quite a bit.”

“But... you want this pain,” he said, in confusion. “It pleases you, makes you feel more alive, twisting and churning inside you.”

Vira sighed. “Perhaps,” she admitted. “Sometimes we need to remember pain. It becomes a part of us.”

“Why?”

The Inquisitor laughed. “Good question,” she said, standing up. “Sometimes it helps us from making the same mistake twice. Sometimes... there are things that are so important that it is worth it, to remember the pain. You don’t want to give up any little part of it, even if it hurts.”

Cole blinked. “The hurting can be precious,” he said. “You carry it in you, turning it over and over and over and it becomes a pearl.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“He is hurting too,” Cole said. “Burning, freezing, cold fever, why did I allow it, her lips, her eyes, haunted and haunting, hunted and hunter.”

“I know he’s hurting, Cole.”

“He doesn’t want my help, either.” Cole said, confused.

“It’s good of you to offer,” Vira said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And you did help me, really. I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

Cole nodded. He turned and walked out on to the balcony, hopping lightly to the railing. He stared up at the sky for a moment, then disappeared.

Vira sank into a chair in front of the fire. Now that the initial outpouring of tears had faded, she felt a bit at a loss. With a glance at her desk, she heaved herself to her feet. Might as well begin to review Josephine’s latest batch of reports.

A knock on her door interrupted her. Sera poked her head in. “Now a good time, then?” she asked. Without waiting for a response, she walked into the Inquisitor’s chambers. “Phwoar!” Sear said, looking around the room. “This is the life, yeah? You got a balcony and everything. Suppose that’s right, yeah, you bein’ the boss and all.” She sat on the side of the bed and bounced a few times.

“You want a promotion, all you have to do is trade hands,” Vira choked out a laugh, holding out the mark.

Sera shied away. “Nothing doing,” she cringed. “Tavern’s fine for me. Speaking of which, you and me have a date.”

“We do?”

“Yeah. Right now. You an’ me, the tavern, drinks.” Sera hopped on the bed and began jumping up and down.

“What’s the occasion?” Vira said suspiciously.

“Broken heart, innit?” Sera said, continuing to bounce. “The eggy one broke it off, yeah? No good mopin’ in your room,” she said. With one last huge leap, Sera hurled herself across the room, flipping in mid-air, landing gracefully in front of Vira.

Despite herself, the Inquisitor laughed. “I think that’s a good idea, Sera.”

The tavern was busy, but not overly so. “Cabot!” Sera shouted to the bartender as they walked in. “Drinks for me and the boss. The good stuff, yeah? She’s payin’.” Sera straddled a bench and jabbed a thumb in Vira’s direction.

It was a bit awkward at first - Vira hadn’t spent much time actually drinking at the tavern since she had assumed the title of Inquisitor. The other patrons gave the elves a wide berth. For the first time in years, Vira was reminded of her time in Ansburg, how skittish she had been at first, and how she had learned to make friends with the humans at the Dancing Goat.

“Krem!” Vira called over her shoulder. “What are you doing in the corner all by yourself? Come join us. I’m paying for drinks, apparently.”

Krem grinned. “Well, now you’re speaking my language. Don’t mind if I do,” he said, pulling up a seat. “Rest of the Chargers should be here soon. You might want to rethink your tab.”

“Pssh,” Vira waved a hand dismissively. “You know how much loot I yank off these Venatori? Idiots. They wander the countryside wearing jewels, for fuck’s sake.”

“That’s ‘Vints for you,” Krem agreed. “Bull!” he called out as the head of the Chargers strode in. “Looks who’s joined us!”

Bull’s grin was as wide as the sky. “Boss! You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He sat. “You drinking away the pain? Good for you.”

Vira shook her head and rolled her eyes, gesturing to Cabot to set up another round.

It did not take long for the night to turn a bit rowdy. Between Sera and the Chargers, the place got loud, and that was before Varric showed up.

Vira smiled. Now that the initial shock of “drinking with the boss” had subsided, she was no longer the center of attention. The warmth of the tavern and the ale had mellowed her considerably. For right now, this moment, she wasn’t the Inquisitor. She was just a person in a bar, trading jokes. She felt good.

There was a momentary lull in the chaos. Several of the Chargers slipped outside, no doubt to relieve themselves. Sera headed to the bar for refills. Vira listened to Maryden’s lute. Despite the fact that she sat only a few feet away from the bard, the music was audible for the first time in an hour.

Without realizing it, Vira began singing along. “I am the one, who can recount what was lost...”

“You know this song, my lady?” Maryden asked, continuing to strum.

Vira smiled sadly. “It’s an old elf tune, did you know? Humans translated it, but it was elven first.”

Maryden nodded. “I have heard it sung in your tongue, once, in Denerim. Alas, I was not able to learn it. Perhaps you could sing it for us?”

“Oh, no no no,” Vira scoffed.

“Come on, what’s the harm?” Varric said from across the table. “No one’s listening. Half the guys are out taking a piss. I want to hear it in elvish. Please?” he pleaded, making puppy-dog eyes at her.

“I, well, no, that is -” Vira felt herself get hauled up by the back of her shirt. Bull was pulling her out of her seat.

“C’mon boss. You’re never going to be drunk enough to sing for us again. Plus,” he added. “It’ll be good for morale. Especially if you can’t sing.”

He plopped the elf next to Maryden. The bard nodded in encouragement. Vira cleared her throat.

“H-Heruamin lotirien....” she began in a tentative warble. The ancient high elven words came slowly to her.

“WOT?! Are you singin’?” Sera said, returning with full tankards. “I’ve gotta hear this.” She sat on the table, plonking her feet on a nearby chair.

“...Alai uethri maeria...” Vira continued, finding her voice, sweet and high, clear as spring water. She shut her eyes, trying to remember the feeling of singing to the wolves in the Green Dales, the way her voice had echoed off the trees.

“Ame amin, halai lothi amin....” The words came more easily now. Her voice strengthened.

The tavern grew silent as the Inquisitor sang. “I am the one,” she sang in elvish, “Who will live on...”

She felt a gust of cool air as the door swung wide. Opening her eyes, she saw Cullen standing there. Vira’s heart caught in her chest. “Ame amin...” she sang. “Halai lothi amin...”

The song took on a life of its own, winding and twisting through the building and then through Skyhold. The ancient elven words carried themselves on the wind, the magic in the old stones echoing it throughout the keep. All through Skyhold, the members of the Inquisition raised their faces to the sound.

Deep within the stronghold, Solas delicately applied paint on the walls of the rotunda, the music swirling through in the room. Though his face was wracked with pain, his hands did not shake. “Noamin... heruamin....” he whispered, his voice cracking.

As Vira completed the final verse, she looked to Maryden. With a nod, the bard played on, and Vira continued singing, this time in the common tongue. The bard’s husky voice joined with the elf in a bittersweet harmony. “I have run through the fields of pain and sighs,” they sang. “I have fought to see the other side.”

Vira locked eyes with Cullen, who still stood in the doorway. “I am the one... who can recount what we've lost. I am the one who will live on....”

The final strands of the song died away. There was a moment of silence, the only sound the guttering of the torches. Many of the patrons had tears in their eyes. Vira faltered, unsure of what to do.

“Holy shit,” she heard Bull say under his breath. A second later, the tavern exploded in cheering and applause.

Vira exhaled, suddenly realizing that her legs were shaking. She tottered back to her seat, surrounded by well-wishers shaking her hand and patting her on the back. Her elven ears also heard snatches of conversation not directed at her: “...did you hear that? Sent by Andraste herself, must be.... that voice....”

Vira found herself suddenly exhausted. She slipped out of the Tavern at the first opportunity.

She made her way to her quarters indirectly, heading along the battlements to avoid the great hall. The clouds parted, revealing the full moon. Vira paused, leaning over the cool stone to regard the sky.

The sound of a boot scuffed behind her. It was Cullen. “My lady Lavellan,” he breathed. “That was... you were....”

She smiled sadly. “I’m glad you liked it, Cullen.”

“I... I can guess what it means. I....” he faltered. “I am sorry, truly.” The pain in his voice was audible.

Vira nodded, breathing deeply to stave off the tears that threatened. “Thank you,” she said.

He reached out a hand, as if to touch her shoulder, then dropped it. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure you are very tired. Have a good night, Inquisitor.” With a short bow, he took his leave.

The Inquisitor met with her advisors the next morning. Josephine, and Leliana bowed deeply as she arrived, smiles on their faces. Cullen saluted crisply.

“What’s this all about?” Vira asked suspiciously.

Josephine raised her eyebrows. “‘Your song, Inquisitor,” the ambassador said. “All in Skyhold heard it.”

“What, everyone? _Everyone?_ ” Vira looked to her advisors in confusion.

Leliana gave a half-smile. “So it would seem. I would be surprised if the night does not enter into legend within the week.”

“Just add it to the ‘Legend’ list,” Vira said with resignation. “What do we have today?” She turned her attention to the war table.

“The so-called ‘Freemen of the Dales’ are the most pressing priority, in my opinion,” Cullen stated, pointing a finger at the Emerald Graves. “Deserters from the civil war. They are harrying our troops, disrupting supply lines and so forth. We have a contact with information, but he wants to meet you.”

Vira sighed. “Take a number,” she grunted.

Josephine chuckled merrily. “Now now, Inquisitor. It is your fault for being such a charming leader. You have only yourself to blame. There is also the matter of succession in Lydes. Not a top priority, but it should be addressed.”

Vira nodded. “Leliana?”

The former bard referred to a dispatch. “We’re still waiting for advance word from the Western Approach. I’ve sent Scout Harding to make the initial foray. I expect her to arrive and set up a base of operations within ten days.”

“How far to meet this contact in the Emerald Graves, Commander?” Vira looked at the map thoughtfully.

“Two days’ ride,” he said.

Vira chewed her lip for a moment. “Fine. Josephine, pick someone to take over in Lydes. I don’t care who. You know the nobility better than I ever will. I’ll take a party to the Emerald Graves to meet the contact while we wait for Harding to report back.”

Leliana nodded. “Who will accompany you?”

Vira rubbed the back of her neck. “Cullen, what are we looking at out there?”

“Close quarters fighting in the forest. Possibly some mage activity, but mostly army deserters,” he said. He also rubbed the back of his neck, unconsciously mirroring Vira’s gesture. He met her eyes briefly.

Vira considered. “Bull’s too big for fighting in the forest, and he might scare off the contact. Same for Cole. Vivienne’ll be too intimidating to refugees, and Sera does best in cities. Blackwall should stay here in case there is any word about the Wardens. I’ll take Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian,” she concluded.

“And what of our elven apostate?” Leliana asked delicately. “The Emerald Graves is your ancient homeland. Will you not need him in the field?”

Vira looked at the spymaster mildly. “If you are trying to see whether my ability to make decisions has been compromised, let me assure you, it has not. Determining Corypheus’ next move is critical. The best place for Solas is here. His ability to explore the Fade may reveal some crucial element we cannot reach by normal means. If we come across anything in the Emerald Graves which requires his specific talents, I will send for him.”

“As you wish,” Leliana murmured, bowing her head.

“Anyway,” Vira added with a wry smile. “Dorian is better in a fight. I think it’s his moustache. Just intimidates the hell out of everyone.”

Josephine’s peal of laughter relieved the tension in the room.

“A word, Inquisitor?” Leliana asked as they filed out.

“What is it?”

“I apologize. My intent was not to discomfit you, nor do I doubt your ability to lead. You have proven yourself time and again.”

“What was that all about, then?” Vira was wary.

“Sometimes it is important to acknowledge these... situations. Allowing them to fester, unspoken, could undermine the confidence of your advisors.”

“I take it you disapprove of the ‘situation’,” Vira said.

“That’s not it at all,” Leliana demurred. “I know what it is like to be thrown together, facing the end of the world. When I traveled with the Hero of Ferelden....” Her eyes softened, unfocused. “Let us just say none of us are immune to the affection which can arise between two people. I chose to bring the matter up today to give you a chance to respond. Better the others think me rude than the alternative.”

Vira blinked. “I see. I appreciate your candor. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Inquisitor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the song in Elvish:  
> https://youtu.be/f7fjwfjY7dQ?list=RDf7fjwfjY7dQ
> 
> Here's the song in common:  
> https://youtu.be/__hStdzoYVk


	10. The Emerald Graves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira and her companions travel to deal with the Freemen of the Dales. Along the way, her dreams lead her to Fen'Harel...

“What did I tell you, Inquisitor? The statues are everywhere!” Varric called out over his shoulder. He pointed to the Inquisition camp. The party rode closer, and indeed, there sat a huge stone wolf in among the tents and supplies. Vira slid from her horse and ran up to it in delight.

“Amazing,” the Inquisitor said, running her hands on the cold muzzle. “We have none of these in the Green Dales. Perhaps if we had....” Her voice trailed off. “Some say that in the days of Halamshiral, elven warriors had wolf companions, but our clan didn’t believe it. Too superstitious.” Vira said.

“Remarkable!” Dorian said. “That’d be handy, having a wolf at your beck and call. Imagine how nice that would be on chilly nights. Something to snuggle your cold feet into.”

Cassandra scoffed. “Do you ever stop thinking in terms of your own comfort, Dorian?”

“Why, yes, Seeker, my feet are freezing, thank you for asking,” he responded politely.

“Come on,” Vira said. “Lets go find Fairbanks.”

Finding the contact was not difficult; Scout Harding’s directions were accurate and detailed, as always. Fairbanks himself proved to be a reasonable, compassionate man. Vira could plainly see that he wished to help the Inquisition, but that the safety of his people was paramount.

Vira and her companions returned to the camp for the evening. In the morning they would trace down the first lead on the Freemen of the Dales, a woman named Sister Costeau, and hopefully determine what involvement the Red Templars had in the area.

After dinner, Vira walked through the trees near the camp. Vira’s heart was still sore from Solas’ rejection. But somehow in the midst of this forest, with its stone guardians, the constant agony had mellowed to a numb ache.

“Has anyone noticed the difference in our illustrious leader?” Dorian asked the other companions quietly over the campfire.

“How do you mean?” Cassandra asked.

“She’s... well, I’m sure Sera would say ‘more _elfy_ ’, don’t you think?” Dorian said, pointing with his chin. They turned to see Vira scamper up the branches of a particularly large oak and disappear within the foliage.

Varric shrugged. “She’s been out of her element for a long time. Maybe years, for all we know. There aren’t many places in Thedas with forest this old. Let her enjoy it while she can.”

“I’m not judging,” Dorian said defensively. “I enjoy seeing this side of her. Well, I did,” He clarified, squinting into the tree canopy. “For someone with red hair, she really blends in with the trees.”

Vira slept in the crown of the massive oak that night. She dreamt of the forests in the Green Dales, far to the north. She was young, a small child, playing with wolf pups, tumbling to wrestle with them on the soft forest floor. Then the dream shifted and she was herself, adult, the Inquisitor. She was no longer in the Green Dales, but in the Emerald Graves. Hundreds of wolf statues dotted the forest. The pups now regarded her warily, whining in confusion, coming to smell her hand but then shying away.

“Come back,” she called to them, but they ran away. She chased after, but her steps faltered. She could no longer run. Vira looked down to see barbed vines wrapping her legs, binding her. The thorns cut into her flesh, and she bled. The pain felt like heartache. In despair she threw herself on the ground, weeping.

The statue nearest to her began to speak, greeting her in elvish. “Andaran atish’an, Vir’athawen.” The voice was maddeningly familiar, but she could not place it.

She looked up. The statue was gone; instead, Fen’Harel regarded her calmly. “Why do you weep, da’len?” Vira quailed. Wolves had never intimidated her, but this was no mere wolf. He was massive; power radiated from him like heat.

Vira bowed her head. “I cannot run,” she said. “There is too much pain.”

“Da’len,” the Dread Wolf said. “Long ago, I saved a young babe from death. What was meant as a blessing was twisted into a curse by your clan. It has bound you these many years. Be free, Vir’athawen. Be whole.”

Vira looked at the vines binding her. She grasped them with her hand, the anchor flashing as the thorns cut into her fingers. For an instant, the pain was unbearable, but she did not relent. Then it was done - the vines melted away, her legs healed.

Vira looked up to thank the wolf, but he was gone. His voice lingered a moment in the empty air. “Go with grace, Vir’athawen.”

With a start, Vira jolted from her sleep. The momentary confusion of waking up in a strange place chased away the dream. The only thing she remembered was the howling of a wolf and a feeling of joy tinged with loss.

The next day, Vira awoke more refreshed than she had in weeks. “Varric, I’ve got an idea,” she mentioned as they prepared to ride to the Veridium mine occupied by Sister Costeau. “If you sit on my shoulders, together we’ll be as tall as Seeker Cassandra.”

“And that will help... how?” Varric asked suspiciously.

“For all the smooching you two so obviously want to do,” Vira said, her eyes twinkling.

Varric and Cassandra exchanged a confused look.

“Could also come in handy for dancing,” Dorian called out.

“Here, let’s give it a shot.” Vira began chasing Varric, attempting to pick him up.

Cassandra rubbed her forehead. “Uggggh,” she said in disgust.

Varric hid behind some crates. “What has gotten into you, Inquisitor?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” Vira said. “I feel good though. Is that so wrong?”

“It is if I’m going to be riding around on your shoulders. I’m afraid of heights, you know.”

“Five foot one does not exactly qualify as ‘height’,” Dorian snickered.

“Please, can we just get to the Veridium mine?” Cassandra said as she finished strapping on her armor. “Varric, you may ride on the Inquisitor’s shoulders, but should you attempt to kiss me it will go badly, I assure you.”

Defeating Sister Costeau and releasing the trapped miners was not difficult. Vira reviewed the papers left behind in the mine. “Looks like there are two others involved in the operation, at Argon Lodge and Villa Mauriel. Let’s go track them down.”

On the way to Villa Mauriel, they came across the ruins of a pavilion surrounding a wolf statue. Inside was a small band of Freemen. The Inquisition party was outnumbered slightly, but it was manageable. The fight was engaged as they drew the Freemen out of the confines of the ruins. But then, from nowhere, dozens of Red Templars began streaming towards them.

“Ideas, Seeker?” Varric yelled.

Cassandra chanced a quick glance away from the fighting and was rewarded with a bash to her shield. “Fall back to the pavilion,” she shouted.

They made it to the ruins. Dorian cast flame wards at both entrances, buying them some time.

“How many?” Cassandra asked, breathing heavily.

“Shit,” Varric said. “I stopped counting at two dozen.”

Vira assessed their position. The walls of the ruins seemed strong enough, but the roof was a shambles, full of holes. “How long can you keep up the wards, Dorian?” Vira asked.

“Maybe ten minutes?” The Tevinter said through gritted teeth. “Less if they throw magic at me.”

Vira cast about, looking for anything to block even one of the entrances to fortify their position. Her eyes fell on the statue of the wolf. She ran to it and whispered a few words in its ear while the others peered out at the enemy.

“A last stand, then,” Cassandra said. “For Andraste.” She readied her sword and shield.

“No!” Vira called out. “I’ll get help. Cassandra, give me a boost.” The Inquisitor pointed at the largest hole in the roof. “Dorian, be ready to drop the wards and cast barrier around me and my friends when I return.”

Cassandra looked skeptical, but obliged, tenting her hands to make a foothold. Vira wreathed herself in shadow, then scrambled over the wall.

“Does anyone have any idea what the hell she’s doing?” Varric said.

“Perhaps there is a Dalish clan nearby.” Cassandra suggested.

“She’s got nine minutes to find out,” Dorian said, concentrating on the wards. The Red Templars gibbered and slavered outside the ruins, repeatedly burning themselves in their mindless attempt to breach the magic.

“I hope that’s -” Varric broke off his thought as the trees echoed with the sound of howling. “No!” he said, looking at Cassandra in awe.

“It must be,” the warrior said, readying her sword and shield.

“What are you -” Dorian began to ask, but then stopped. The party watched as dozens of wolves poured out of the forest and attacked. Vira was with them, her daggers flashing. Within moments, three Freemen and a Red Templar had fallen. The enemy turned away from the pavilion to deal with the wolves. The clamor of battle was peppered with yelps as the wolves took injuries.

“Dorian!” Vira shouted. “Barriers on the wolves! NOW!” She lunged at a Freeman, slicing his torso with one hand and severing his hamstring with the other.

“Is she mad? They’ll eat us alive!” Dorian yelled.

“Do it!” Cassandra’s face brooked no arguments. The Tevinter took a deep breath and nodded.

The instant the wards fell, Varric and Cassandra charged into the fray, only to falter, practically unneeded, as Vira dealt death with every step. Dancing and whirling in and out of shadow, the elf’s blades bit like fangs. One templar fell, then another, and another. The wolves, now protected by Dorian’s magical barrier, continued to harry the enemies, incapacitating the foes so that Vira could deliver the killing blow. Her knives seemed to ripple, liquid, in the dappled light of the forest.

It was over within moments. The magical barrier around the wolves dissipated. They gathered together as a pack and regarded the Inquisitor calmly, sitting on their haunches.

“Ma serranas,” Vira thanked the pack leader, a large wolf whose scarred muzzle was tinged with gray. She laid down her knives in front of him and knelt. “Vir sahlin enasalin. Victory is now ours.”

The wolf barked, a triumphant sound. He rose from his haunches and approached the elf. She held out her hand. The anchor glinted green. The wolf smelled her palm and licked it once, then backed away, his head held low.

As one, the pack howled. The sound echoed, reflected by the ancient trees. Then, the wolves melted back into the forest.

There was a moment of silence. “Would anyone mind telling me what the hell just happened?” Dorian’s voice called out.

“Our illustrious leader has a way with wolves,” Varric explained.

“We can call that the understatement of the year,” Dorian said, stepping over the corpses that littered the field.

“A wolf saved my life when I was a baby,” Vira explained. “My clan thought it was not just any wolf, but the Elven god Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. I have his scent, as the Dalish say. Wolves accept me as one of their own, unless they’re corrupted by demons. It made me a pariah as a child - my clan was superstitious. Wolves have defended me from danger before. I thought perhaps they might do so again.”

Dorian gaped at her. “You never cease to amaze me, Inquisitor. Is there some way to harness that power, I wonder? Army of wolves might be useful.”

Vira shook her head. “No. I have enough to deal with being the Herald of Andraste without becoming the Bride of Fen’Harel or some nonsense. Let’s keep this to ourselves for now. Luckily, these guys don’t seem interested in talking,” Vira said, nudging one of the bodies with her foot.

At camp later that night, Varric pulled Vira aside. “Are you alright?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you fight like that. I mean, I’m impressed, don’t get me wrong.”

Vira looked out into the forest, shadows dancing as the wind blew through the trees. “I’m fine. Better than fine. I’ve been running from this part of myself for a long time, Varric. It’s held me back. Time I came into my own, don’t you think?” She smiled.

“You do seem... more... well, more, I guess. More you.” He laughed. “I’m starting to sound like Cole. Come on, let’s get some rest.”

Sleep was elusive that night for Vira. Not from worry or heartache, but from the feeling of one chapter of her life closing and another stretching before her, full of possibility. She did her best to remember what the Dread Wolf had said to her, but the words were hazy.

Vira had to admit, she did feel more at ease, both physically and emotionally. It was as if something in her had been set free, some force which had been holding her back. The shame and humiliation caused by a lifetime of being shunned by her clan had lost its sting. The desire to belong, the hole she had attempted to fill by running with the packs, had been transformed into a strength of will, a confidence she had not previously known.

A week later they returned to Skyhold. As always, Vira was surprised to see how the Inquisition had grown while she’d been away. The courtyard was bustling with activity. Leliana met Vira at the entrance to the Great Hall. “Inquisitor,” she said with a short bow. “Excellent work in securing the Emerald Graves.”

Vira nodded in thanks. “I’ll fill you in at the war table in an hour. There’s someone I need to talk to first. Send word to Josephine and Cullen, would you?”

“Of course.”

Vira found Solas in the rotunda, poring over sheafs of parchment. “Lethallan. You’ve returned.”

“I have.” Vira felt her heart clench, though she kept her face neutral. The heartbreak and rejection which had seemed so distant in the Emerald Graves came flooding back.

He looked at her carefully. “You seem different. More whole, perhaps.”

“Varric said something similar,” she noted. “I need your advice on an Inquisition matter.”

“You have but to ask.”

Vira reported her dream and experience with the wolves to Solas. She lowered her voice. “I didn’t tell the others, but I didn’t find those wolves. I asked Fen’Harel to summon the wolves for me. I didn’t even think about it at the time. It was instinct. I realized after that it was related to the dream I had. Am I being manipulated by Corypheus somehow?”

“I do not think so. Can you remember more of the dream?”

She shook her head. “I’ve tried. I remember the Dread Wolf talking to me, but not the specific words. Only something about pain. You told me in... Crestwood....” Vira paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “- that you don’t believe Fen’Harel was a god, but that he existed, perhaps as a very powerful mage,” Vira reminded him. “Would a mage be able to do this?”

“Possibly.” Solas said. “Fen’Harel may have saved you as a baby. But your response to your clan’s superstitious rejection, how you dealt with your pain, is what made you who you are. _You_ sought the wolves out as a child. _You_ fought to create a family when your own people refused you. Perhaps Fen’Harel, if he yet lives, is merely responding to that. What happened in the forest may be the effect, not the cause.”

Vira nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think I quite understand that, to be honest. But I appreciate your insight.” She laughed, raising her voice. “You should’ve seen Dorian’s face when the wolves appeared. I thought he was going to soil his trousers.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Dorian’s voice floated down from the vaulted library above the rotunda.

“I was counting on it,” Vira grinned. She looked at Solas. “Stroll the battlements for a moment?”

They walked outside and leaned on the stone walls overlooking the courtyard. “How have you been? Are you alright?” Vira asked, not looking at him.

“No. But I will be. As will you.” He turned to her.

Vira laughed bitterly. “Is that an order, Hahren?”

“You _must,_ ” he urged, taking her by the shoulders. “Do you think I brought this on you for nothing? I -”

At that moment, the door to Cullen’s tower opened and he strode out on to the battlements, perusing a dispatch in his hand.

“Commander,” Vira called out with a smile, waving. Breaking away, she took a few steps towards Cullen, the pain that flashed across Solas’ face going unseen.

Cullen looked up, already smiling at the sound of her voice. His stride faltered and his smile faded slightly as he saw her standing there with Solas.

“Inquisitor, Solas,” Cullen greeted them.

“Solas was... just helping me with an issue from the Emerald Graves,” Vira explained. “Are you heading to the War Room, Commander? I can go with you, if you like.”

“Ah...” Cullen’s eyes darted between the two elves, trying to get a read on the situation.

“I will take my leave,” Solas said with a short bow. “Inquisitor, if anything else arises, I am at your disposal.”

Cullen and Vira walked to the War Room. “I heard you had quite an adventure in the Emerald Graves, Inquisitor,” Cullen said.

“It was... interesting,” Vira noted.

“I wish I could be with you,” Cullen said. Vira raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Uh, what I mean is, I wish I was more involved with you. In the field,” he added hastily. “Maker’s breath,” he swore to himself.

“That would be lovely. Well, as lovely as fighting Red Templars and Venatori agents and demons can be, at any rate,” Vira said.

“You know, I’ve never actually seen you fight,” Cullen said.

“We fought together at Haven,” Vira offered.

“Well we were both _there_ , true,” Cullen admitted. “But we were both occupied. You favor daggers, yes?”

“Is this some sort of Templar small talk?” Vira laughed. “Exchanging tips on how to best chop the enemy into little bits?”

“Well, yes, I mean - no,” Cullen said.

Vira laughed, pulling open the door to the War Room. “After you, Commander.”


	11. Western Approach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes places after Vira discovers the Grey Wardens are using blood magic rituals at the Tevinter tower. She doubts her abilities to lead. Her frustration causes her to take control of one situation she can handle - her flirtation with Cullen.

The heat in the Western Approach was inescapable. At first Vira thought that the wind helped take the edge off, made the temperature bearable. This was before she discovered that the same wind also drove sand particles into every crevice in her armor.

The heat and dust also wore on her and her companions, adding to the already fraying nerves. “I cannot believe the Wardens would stoop to blood magic,” Hawke fumed as they rode back to the Inquisition camp.

“Would you not do whatever it takes to save the world as you know it?” Stroud shot back. His Grey Warden armor was covered in gore.

“Raising an army of demons using blood magic? How is that ‘the world as you know it’?” Varric said.

“Gentlemen, please.” Vira cut them off. “We need options, not sniping. Dorian, you saw the spell Erimond was using to control the mages. Is there some way to counteract it?”

“Easily,” Dorian said. “You’ll just need an equal amount of blood from the same person used to cast the spell in the first place.”

“Ah.” Vira said.

“That’s the thing about blood magic. It’s extremely simple to do, almost impossible to undo,” the Tevinter clarified.

“You’re the expert on blood magic,” Blackwall muttered.

“Why yes, now that you mention it, I _am_ ,” Dorian snapped back. “And it’s a lucky thing for you that I’m on the right side, Blackwall.”

Vira urged her mount, riding ahead of the others a few dozen paces to leave the argument behind her. The battle at the ancient desert ruin was close fought. Normally she was fighting demons or mages, not both. Vira got a nasty slash on her thigh from a rage demon. Nothing life-threatening, but the pain was acute. Blackwall, meanwhile, had taken heavy injuries. A healing potion had gotten him on his feet, but he would require several days of rest to fully recover. And for all that, Erimond, the magister, had escaped.

It was hard not to see the mission as a failure. Though they had gained information, they were no closer to stopping the Wardens from the nightmare scenario of raising an army of demons. Vira was already wondering what miracle Cullen would have to pull off to conduct an assault of Adamant Fortress, where the Wardens were holing up.

The Inquisition camp loomed closer. Vira eased up on her mount, cantering up to the tents. “We’ve taken injuries,” she reported to the requisition officer. “We’ll need to restock potions.”

“At once, ser,” the officer said, with a crisp salute. She strode away.

“And a side of morale,” Vira muttered to herself. “Seems to be in short supply.”

The ride back to Skyhold took eight days, rather than the normal ten. The party pushed their horses, stopping every few hours to swap mounts to even the load. The lighthearted banter Vira had become accustomed to on her journeys had all but ceased as the group began to give in to fatigue and frustration.

Skyhold had never looked so welcoming. They arrived at noon, the high mountain sun shining brightly on the walls of the keep. As had become her custom when returning from the field, Vira met with her advisors one hour after she arrived.

“I could really use some good news,” Vira said as she pushed open both doors to the war room.

The three advisors looked at each other apprehensively.

“Oh!” Josephine said. “Duke Bertrand very much appreciated the gift of silk brocade... that I sent...” the ambassador’s voice petered out.

Vira closed her eyes and sighed. “Good,” she said after a moment. “I’m glad Duke Bertrand is pleased. Does he perhaps know a secret way to dissolve the walls of Adamant fortress? No? Well, it was worth a shot.”

“Inquisitor,” Leliana said. “You uncovered useful information. Your mission provided crucial intelligence, that we can use to strike a blow. Do not blame yourself for what happ-”

“Blame myself?” Vira frowned. “Oh, I don’t blame myself. I blame the Wardens. I blame the Venatori. I blame Corypheus. I’m just...” She shook her head. “I apologize. I am just tired. Are there any questions about my reports? If not, I think I should get some rest. Begin thinking about how to tear down that fortress. We can discuss options later. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”

The advisors bowed their heads in acknowledgement as their leader took her leave. There was a moment where they all looked at each other.

“You should talk to her, Commander,” Leliana said finally.

“Me? Why me?” Cullen looked mortified.

“She is feeling the burdens of command. She needs to know she is not alone.”

“What about Seeker Cassandra? She commands troops too, you know.” Cullen floundered.

“No,” Josephine said, coming to stand with Leliana. “It should be you. You can offer her comfort in ways that Seeker Cassandra cannot.”

“What kind of comfort?” Cullen said suspiciously.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Commander.” Leliana said mildly.

An hour later, Commander Cullen strode through the Great Hall with purpose, his head held high, a large box in his hands. He knocked on the door to the Inquisitor’s chambers, ignoring both the curious stares of the dozens or so onlookers as well the thumping in his own chest.

When there was no reply, he entered, closing the door behind him. “Maker’s breath.” He leaned on the closed door for a moment, willing his heart to stop racing. “Why does her door have to be where everyone can see?” he said to himself.

“Inquisitor? It’s Commander Cullen,” he called up the corridor. “Hello?”

When there was no response, he cautiously walked up the steps into Vira’s chamber. She was curled on her couch, asleep, a ray of sunlight bathing her in warmth against the cool mountain air.

Quietly, Cullen set the box down. He knelt beside the couch, his armor clinking slightly. With a deep breath, Vira awoke, fixing a sleepy smile at Cullen. “Commander,” she said.

Cullen’s heart ached to hear such warmth in her voice. “Hello, Inquisitor. I hope - I hope I’m not disturbing you?” He chanced a half smile at her.

“Never,” she said. Vira still hadn’t risen from her sleeping position, adding a level of intimacy to the moment that Cullen hadn’t anticipated. She looked very vulnerable and small. The sun, meanwhile, had set her red hair into flame.

Cullen opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly he found he could not remember what it was.

“Is there something I can do for you, or do you just like watching me sleep?” Vira smiled.

“Yes. No! I mean... Maker’s breath,” he said.

Vira laughed and stood up. Cullen followed suit.

“I just thought,” the Commander began. He picked up the box. “When we played chess last month, you said you.... would like to spend more time together. With me. And, well it seemed this last mission was difficult for you. I know what that’s like. I always enjoy a game in these situations. Helps clear the head.” The last few words were a jumble.

“Commander, that is an excellent idea,” Vira said, laying a hand on his arm. “You set up the board. I’ll fetch us something to drink.”

A few moments later Vira joined Cullen on the balcony, a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. “You go first,” she said, pouring them each a glass.

He grinned. “You got the better of me last time. Don’t think that getting me tipsy will help you win,” Cullen warned.

“I would never.”

They played in relative silence for a few moments, engrossed in the opening moves of the game. “How are you holding up?” Cullen said finally. “This field work has got to be difficult for you.”

Vira sighed, contemplating the board. “It can be trying, to be honest.”

“Can I offer you a bit of advice from one of my former Knight-Commanders? I hope you weren’t fond of this rook, by the way.” He yanked one of Vira’s pieces from the board.

Vira clucked her tongue at him. “You’re ruthless. And I take it this is advice from someone who didn’t go crazy and blow up Kirkwall?”

Cullen laughed. “No. This was from much earlier, in Ferelden. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Vira sipped her wine. “And let you win? No chance.”

“No, I mean, that’s the advice: ‘Don’t push yourself too hard.’ You’ve been undertaking increasingly dangerous field missions for months now, and today’s the first day I’ve ever heard you come close to complaining.” Cullen leaned back in his chair and looked at her.

Vira smiled. “Will complaining more help? I can give you a laundry list, if you like. In exchange for this knight, of course,” she picked up a piece and dangled it over the board.

“What?” Cullen leaned over, looking at the game in dismay. “Damn.” He tented his fingers, contemplating his next move. “I’m not saying go out and complain to anyone who’ll listen. But having some kind of release is good.”

“Funny,” Vira said. “Bull told me the same thing.”

“I’m not surprised. He leads a fine company. What did he suggest?” Cullen sipped his wine.

Vira raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Cullen choked on his wine. “Why am I not surprised?”

Vira laughed. “I don’t suppose that’s your suggestion as well?”

“My sugges- Maker’s breath,” Cullen said. “You really are trying to distract me from the game, aren’t you?”

“Well, it appears to be working.” Vira took yet another piece from the board.

“What, again? I can’t believe it.” The commander surveyed his dwindling forces.

“What do you suggest? I’m serious,” Vira said, refilling his glass.

Cullen spoke as he looked at the board. “You essentially command a small, elite group - like the Chargers. That affords you a level of intimacy with your troops that I could never enjoy. I’ve seen you with your companions - not afraid to make a joke, and you take an interest in every one of their lives. You truly care about them. That is the strength of your leadership. They will walk into fire for you. But if you give too much, you’ll leave nothing for yourself. Don’t be afraid to show some weakness. Rely on them the way they rely on you. Admitting you’re scared, or tired, will only strengthen the ties that bind you. Ah ha!” He triumphantly moved one of his remaining pieces, relieving Vira of her bishop.

He looked up to see Vira with tears in her eyes. “What’s the matter?” he said, rushing to her side.

“I am scared, Cullen,” she admitted. “There are so many relying on me. _Me_ , of all people. I've been making it up as I go along. How can I possibly prevail?”

Cullen took her hand. “Don’t think of it as success or failure. You are doing everything you can. That’s all there is. As long as you don’t give up, you cannot be defeated.”

She nodded, blinking back the tears. “Thank you, Cullen.”

“Inquis- Vira,” Cullen said, catching himself. “You must know, I’ve come to admire you a great deal. Your leadership, your insight, your courage, your prowess on the battlefield...”

“My ability to beat you at chess,” Vira said, wiping her eyes.

“What? No!” Cullen wheeled around to look at the board. Vira reached over his shoulder, leaning her face to within mere inches from his. She moved her King into position, gently knocking his Queen to the ground.

The Commander groaned in despair. He turned back to her, only to find Vira still leaning in close. He looked at her almost hungrily, his gaze lingering on her parted lips before returning to her eyes. He seemed paralyzed.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Vira said. “How about I buy you dinner?”

“I would love to,” he said, almost breathless. “But - I shouldn’t. I - I’ve kept you from your rest for long enough.” Cullen rose and swept his chess pieces into the box.

“Perhaps later, then,” Vira said, also rising to her feet.

“I - yes. Yes, certainly,” Cullen said nervously. “I will take my leave.”

The officer’s dining hall was quiet when Vira found her way down to supper. Bull and Dorian sat in one corner, playing Wicked Grace with Varric. She sat with them, helping herself to some bread and fruit.

“How’s it hanging, boss?” Bull threw in two silver coins. “Call, Dorian.”

“Three pair,” the Tevinter laid his cards on the table.

“Ouch,” Varric said, tossing his cards in.

“So, I find myself in need of some discreet advice,” Vira said, chewing thoughtfully on her bread.

“We’re the _definition_ of discreet,” Dorian said grandly.

“You wanna know how to get in Cullen’s pants,” Bull said calmly, dealing the cards.

Vira had long ago ceased to be surprised at how insightful the Iron Bull could be. “Why is this so difficult? I’ve never met a human so uninterested before. I’m an elf - it’s like catnip to them. Usually I pick them like I order a drink at a tavern,” Vira said. “I’ll have one of those, one of those, and two of those for later.” She mimed picking bottles off a shelf.

Varric snorted. He took one glance at his cards and folded. “Any of those lucky gents former Templars who are head over heels in love with you?”

“Not exactly. Do you really think he -” Vira left it hanging. She had assiduously avoided even thinking about the possibility the Commander’s interest could be more than mere attraction.

“My dear, if he were any more devoted to you, he’d be a puppy,” Dorian said. “Surely you must be able to see that. Three silver.”

“Every time I try to get close to him, he makes an excuse to leave. Just now, I asked him to dinner. He was concerned I was ‘too tired’. Too tired to eat?” She shook her head. “I thought maybe it was vows of celibacy or something, but apparently he never took any of those. I asked.”

Varric spluttered his ale down his chin. “You _asked_? About whether he was _celibate_? What did he say?”

“He said ‘Maker’s breath’ about ten times, then mumbled a no.”

Bull slammed his hand on the table and laughed. He tossed a few coins into the pile. “It’ll cost you four more to stay in, ‘Vint.” He regarded Vira. “Cullen’s all about honor and sacrifice. Makes for a great Templar, and an even better Inquisition Commander. But it means he puts his own feelings to the side. Or tries to. He won’t do anything until you pin his hand to the table with a dagger.”

“Metaphorically speaking,” Dorian clarified. “Please don’t stab him. I know how much you like stabbing things.” He stroked his moustache, evaluating his cards against the pile of coins on the table. “Too rich for me,” he said, casting away his cards.

“Ha HA,” Bull said, sweeping the coins towards himself. “Finally. Come to me, my children.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you gentlemen,” Vira said, draining her cup.

“Our pleasure,” Dorian said.

“Bring coin next time,” Bull called after her as she walked away. “I’m cleaning these guys out.”

The next evening, Vira casually sashayed into the dining hall, carrying a sack of coins. She threw the pouch on the table with a loud jingle.

“Hey boss, you joined us!” Bull grinned.

Vira turned a chair around, straddling it. “Deal me in,” she smiled. “Losing coin to you three is the least I can do to thank you for some excellent advice.”

“Did you - “ Dorian said, one brow arched suggestively.

Vira picked up her cards. “On the battlements this afternoon,” she said demurely. “Two silver.”

“Ha!” Bull said, slapping the table. The coins bounced; Varric grabbed his tankard before it sloshed. “Did anyone see?”

“A courier walked in, actually,” Vira said. “Are you betting or what?”

“Lucky courier. Don’t suppose they joined in,” Bull grinned.

“Joined us - what, kissing? Bull - what did you think we were doing?” Vira asked.

“Do you really need an answer to that?” Varric peered at his cards. “I’m in for two silver.”

“Ah, the first kiss,” Dorian sighed, tossing two coins on the table. “It can be so magical.”

“Ugh, kissing,” Bull said. “I think it’s overrated.”

“We _know_ ,” Dorian and Vira said in unison.

Varric rolled his eyes. “Well? How was it?” he asked Vira.

“It was....” Vira stared up into the rafters with a dreamy look on her face, trying to decide how to best put the experience into words.

The men exchanged a significant glance.

“Warm, wet, wonder, his lips on mine, I feel him tremble, at last, longing, lingering... can he feel my heart beating?” Cole popped into view. He picked up one of the coins from Vira’s stash and danced it across his knuckles.

“Cole!” the others shouted.

“What did I tell you about that, kid?” Varric said, mopping up the puddle of ale near his tankard.

Vira cleared her throat. “Yes. Well. It was like that,” she said. “Bull, you raising or what?”

“Aaahhh,” he grunted, grinning at his cards. “You’re too hopped up on the Commander to think straight. I got this one. Call.”

“Three knaves, three kings,” Vira said, laying her cards neatly on the table. “You really aren’t good at taking my money, are you? Don’t worry. You’ve got a chance to win it back. My turn to deal, is it?”

 


	12. Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira meets Heir and starts down the path of Assassin. Cullen greatly approves.

“Anything else?” Vira asked, as her meeting with the advisors drew to a close.

“One thing,” Leliana reported. “Your trainer is here, in the courtyard. She reviewed the... item you provided and found it worthy. She is willing to teach you.”

Vira laughed. “You mean the _muuuurder_ knife?” She waved her fingers and made a spooky voice. “Do you know how much deathroot I had to gather to make that thing? She’d better be good.”

“Are we sure we want you to be so publicly associated with a known assassin?” Josephine fretted.

“We’ve been over this, Josie.” Leliana reminded her.

“I know. It’s just....” the ambassador clucked her tongue.

Vira grinned. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to spin it, Josephine. Think of it as a challenge.” She walked out of the war room.

After the door closed, Leliana turned to the other advisors. “I don’t know about you, but I’d certainly like to see our Inquisitor in action.”

“Oh sweet Maker yes.” The word’s tumbled from Cullen’s mouth.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Josephine added.

“To the battlements, then.”

Back in her quarters, Vira changed into her armor. Wouldn’t do to start off on the wrong foot with the trainer by showing up in plain clothing. She strapped her daggers to her back, plus half a dozen smaller throwing darts to her legs, and set off.

Vira approached the practice field, tucked into a corner of the courtyard. It seemed empty, at least at first glance. The Inquisitor guessed that the first meeting would be a test. This trainer, a mysterious Dalish woman known as Heir, was highly sought after. She wouldn’t even agree to meet until Vira had provided her with proof of her intent, in the form of the aptly named Murder Knife, a dagger crafted from the metal of three assassin’s knives and deathroot wood.

A voice rang out, heavily inflected with an Orlesian accent, echoing between the stone walls. “She has come to prove herself. Does she know what it is to be assassin?” Vira continued her implacable advance towards the field. The voice rang out once more. “Let her show her intent.”

Vira listened. Wind. The sound of banners flapping. There was no other noise - none of the day-to-day chatting and shouting that normally echoed through the keep. The trainer must have requested a lockdown of the courtyard, Vira realized.

The Inquisitor made her way to the center of the field. She kept her face casual as she glanced around. Nothing.

Her ears detected the sound of the dry grass crackling behind her, once, twice. Vira leapt to the side, tumbling in a low crouch. She caught the briefest flicker of a form before it was swallowed in shadow, running towards the pile of rubble in the corner. Vira used the momentum of the tumble to draw a dart from her thigh, pelting it towards the shadowy figure.

The knife landed in the trunk of the ivy climbing the stone. Vira knew it would not land on the intended target, but with a lesser enemy it would have been a killing blow.

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen hissed from atop the battlements. “Did you see that? She’s magnificent.”

Leliana laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t distract her,” she murmured.

“She can’t possibly hear us,” Cullen said in the merest whisper.

Leliana nodded at the field. Vira rolled her shoulders, loosening the muscles. Without looking up, she drew a dagger and pointed it at the battlements, directly at her advisors, a smile playing across her lips. Cullen’s face went white, then red, as he watched Vira stalk like a predator across the field.

Vira shifted her dagger to her off hand and drew another dart. She stood at the center of the field, seemingly alone. The Inquisitor took a deep breath, then stood straight and closed her eyes.

Leliana’s eyebrows arched in appreciation. The spy stole a glance at Cullen, who seemed in danger of drooling as he peered, open-mouthed, over the stone walls, not even attempting to hide the admiration on his face.

Vira stood, listening, sensing. Wind pushed at her from one side steadily. Then the rush of air abated suddenly. She hurled the dart in that direction.

The Inquisitor was rewarded with a slight grunt as the dart found purchase, glancing on the upper arm of the elf who suddenly appeared into view. There was no time to celebrate, however, as the assassin leapt straight at her.

The fight was commenced in earnest. Vira drew both daggers, to meet the blades of her trainer. Together they danced, twirling and leaping through the air. The blades came mere inches from biting as the two elves dodged and wove. The air filled with the sound of metal on metal, leather on leather, bodies tumbling and running through the dusty field.

“I see you appreciate our leader’s skill, Commander,” Leliana said in a low voice.

“Did she... did she just run up a wall?” he breathed. “I had no idea she was so....” He shook his head in amazement.

“Cassandra told me that her style has changed considerably in recent weeks. She appears quite skilled for one with no formal training.” Josephine noted.

Vira ran straight at Heir, her daggers at shoulder level. Heir moved to parry, but at the last second Vira leaped through the air, tumbling acrobatically to land behind the assassin. Heir, meanwhile, had broken her parry and swept out with her feet, causing Vira to jump to the side defensively.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen said again.

“Hold!” The voice rang out over the field.

Vira slid out of her tumble, rising to her feet in one graceful movement.

Heir saluted with her knives, then sheathed them. Vira did the same.

“She has the intent. It has been so proven.” The assassin bowed deeply. “My name is Heir. It is nice to finally meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan.”

Vira inclined her head politely. “Welcome, Heir. I value your assistance.”

“It is so,” Heir said. “You have skill, of that there can be no doubt. It is raw, powerful. And  unconventional. You fight like a wolf,” the assassin concluded.

Vira looked carefully at the Heir, but she did not appear to be joking. “How do you mean?”

“You know the strength, the power of your own body. This is the first step, and I am glad to move past these basics. You wield the blades as extensions of your own body. This is the second step, also known to you. But then there is the third step: method. You seek to incapacitate first, or to deliver the killing blow to a foe already down. This suggests you are used to fighting in groups. A useful skill. Yet an assassin also works alone, dealing death without the need to incapacitate. This I can teach you.”

“I welcome the teachings, Heir.” Vira bowed in respect.

“And I welcome the opportunity to teach such a promising student, and one of my people, no less. It has been a long time. Come. Let us begin.”

Later in the afternoon, Commander Cullen issued a few final commands to the assembled staff in his office. “Make sure to get the new recruits to oil their armor. We can’t afford to go into battle rusty. And I want a full report tomorrow morning on the troops arriving from Ferelden. That will be all.”

Vira let the runners and lieutenants file out of the room, then entered and shut the door behind her. She still wore her armor, now coated with dust from her first training exercise.

Cullen gave a crooked grin as she slowly walked towards his desk. “Training complete for the day?”

“Indeed,” Vira said, sitting in his chair. “It was invigorating. And now you’ve seen me fight. Was it all you had hoped?”

“By the Maker, I’ve never seen anyone move the way you do. You even impressed Heir.” The Commander leaned on his desk, looking down at her. “Did you really hear me on the battlements?”

Vira grinned slowly. She caressed the tip of her ear. “What did you think these were for, exactly? Just to make me look pretty?”

“I wouldn’t say they make you look ‘pretty’,” Cullen said, taking her hands and pulling her to a standing position. He looked at her ears with a discerning eye. “Beautiful, perhaps, or maybe gorgeous.” One of his arms snaked around her waist. He nuzzled his face into her neck. “I would go so far as delicious, even.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” Vira said. “Tell me more, Commander.”

“Bewitching,” he breathed. “Intoxicating, certainly.” He dragged his lips along her ear, sending shivers down her spine and making her gasp.

Vira wove her fingers into his hair as he nibbled the sensitive skin just below her jaw. She wrapped one leg around his hips.

Cullen gave a low, growling moan. He grabbed her, hoisting her up, his hands supporting her weight. Vira’s legs encircled his waist.

Carrying her easily, Cullen brought her to the ladder which lead to his sleeping chamber. Vira grabbed the rungs as the Templar ground his hips into her.

“Yes,” Vira breathed, feeling Cullen’s hard flesh teasing her through the fabric of their clothes. They moved together effortlessly, mimicking their true intentions. Cullen groaned raggedly as his hands worked their way under her shirt.

There was a loud knock on the door. Vira had just enough time to let go of the ladder and drop her legs to the floor, but she was still pinned by Cullen.

A courier walked in without waiting for a response. “Commander,” he said, reading a dispatch in his hand. “Word from Leli... ana,” he finished, looking up to see Cullen and Vira glaring at him.

It was the same man that had interrupted their first kiss. He gulped. Without another word, he tiptoed to Cullen’s desk, depositing the report, and backed out of the office.

Vira sighed in disappointment. Cullen chose the always-classic method of dealing with frustration: he punched the wall.

“You’ll hurt your hand,” Vira said, straightening her clothes. “It’s just as well. I need a bath. Heir wore me out. I’ll see you later, perhaps?” she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

The commander took a deep breath. “Vira, I wanted to ask you - I’ve got business in Ferelden in a few days. Perhaps you’d like to accompany me? It might be nice to get away.”

“I’d like that. Plus, it’ll be a good idea to make some improvements to your office - I put in a request with Gatsi last week.”

“What improvements are those?”

“Locks for your doors,” Vira grinned.

  
  
  



	13. Lion of Honnleath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira and Cullen finally manage to spend some time together alone.

“And where are you and Cullen going, exactly?” Dorian raised one exquisite eyebrow. “Ferelden’s a big place, you know.” He sipped his tea.

“He wouldn’t say,” Vira shrugged. “As long as it’s not Crestwood, I’ll be fine.” A wry smirk played across her face as she considered the tray of pastries. “Are these mulberry tarts?”

“And you two still haven’t....”

Vira rolled her eyes. “Not for lack of trying, believe me. There’s just no privacy here.” She took a bite of the tart. “Definitely not mulberry.” She looked around the dining room, then discreetly placed the offending tart in the pot of a nearby plant.

“No privacy for _you_ , perhaps,” the Tevinter drawled. “I don’t seem to have any trouble.”

Vira spluttered her tea, choking with laughter. “Are you serious? The entire keep knows exactly when you guys finish your... assignations.”

“Well, it’s not my fault Bull can’t keep his voice down, the big brute,” Dorian said with obvious affection.

“You practically set off fireworks. It put poor Cole in a panic the first time. He thought Bull was being ‘hurt’.” Vira bit her lip and tentatively selected a scone. “I do have to say, I like that we’ve hired an Orlesian baker. Must thank Josephine for that.”

“Yes, well, let’s get back to you. Did our fantastically handsome Commander tell you why he wanted you to come along to Ferelden?”

Vira drained her teacup. “No. He just said we could spend some time together.”

Before she could continue, someone covered Vira’s eyes with their hands from behind. “Two guesses, Quizzie.”

Vira laughed. “Sera, I don’t need two guesses. You’re the only one that calls me ‘Quizzie’.”

Sera plopped herself on a chair. “Oh, right. Well. Could be someone impersonatin’ me, yeah?”

“And who would ever attempt such a feat, my dear?” Dorian drawled.

“Shut it, you. You and your - ooh, are those brickleberry tarts?” Sera’s eyes lit up.

“I can only confirm that they are definitely not mulberry,” Vira said, handing her the tray.

“So you and Commander Handsome goin’ on a trip, yeah? Best bring somefin’ wiv’ ya. To give to ‘im, I mean.” Sera crammed the entire tart in her mouth, then giggled with pleasure. “Brickleberry,” she nodded, her mouth full.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, word ‘round is that he’s got somefin’ for ya.”

“Oooh!” Dorian’s eyes lit up. “What could it be, I wonder?”

“Dunno,” Sera said, putting another tart into her face. “Trinket, probably. He don’t own anything valuable ‘cept his sword and armor.”

“And how do you know that, exactly?” Vira fixed the renowned thief with a questioning look.

“Gotta go,” Sera said around a mouthful of tart. She hopped away, giggling.

“You don’t think he’s going to....” Dorian said, pouring the last of the tea into their cups.

Vira looked skeptical. “What, propose? Dorian, we’ve kissed four times.”

“But four _amazing_ times, yes?”

Vira made a bashful smile. “Yes,” she admitted.

“I wish Bull liked kissing,” Dorian said wistfully. “I miss it so.”

Over the next few hours, Vira pondered. What could she bring? Vira owned nothing of value either, aside from things she had looted from the corpses of her enemies. In the evening, the day’s business concluded, she made her way back to her quarters.

“A gift, a gift,” she said, looking around. Everything in the room had been provided to her by the Inquisition, except one thing. Her gaze fell on the wolf carving.

An idea formed in her mind. She headed to the forge in the undercroft. Hopefully Dagna the smith would be up for working late.

Three days later, the Inquisition party stopped for the night in Honnleath, a tiny village that had been all but wiped out in the Fifth Blight. Once camp was made, Cullen pulled her aside. “If I might have a moment, Inquisitor?”

He led them with sure steps down an almost-imperceptible trail through the woods towards the lake. After a few moments, the view opened up suddenly. There was a small fishing dock on the lake, listing to one side slightly after years of neglect.

“What is this place?” Vira asked. “It’s beautiful.”

“I used to come here as a child,” Cullen said, looking around. “I grew up in Honnleath, did I tell you that? I loved my family, but my siblings were quite loud. I used to come here to escape.” He laughed. “Of course, they always found me eventually. I haven’t been back since I went away to train as a Templar.”

Vira watched Cullen’s face as he was swept away in memory. She wondered how her own life would have differed, if she had a family of her own.

Cullen continued. “Before I left, my older brother gave me this. It was probably just in his pocket at the time, but he said it would bring me luck.” Cullen held out a small silver coin. “We weren’t supposed to have any possessions, as Templars. But I hid it away, the only thing I took with me from Ferelden. I... I want you to have it.”

Vira felt tears start in her eyes. “Cullen... thank you,” she said. “I’ll keep it safe.”

He smiled. “That is all I hope for, Vira.”

She embraced him, her heart full. After a moment, Vira pulled away. “I have something for you, too,” she said, reaching into her pocket. “I hope you like it.”

She handed him a small metal charm. “It’s a lion. I have one like it, made of wood - a wolf. I... I thought it was appropriate. The Lion of Honnleath.”

He weighed it in his hand. “But, that wolf, you carved yourself, didn’t you? How did you...?”

Vira smiled. “I carved the lion from clay, and then had Dagna cast it for me. It’s stormheart. It’ll never dent or shatter.”

“Where on Thedas did you find stormheart ore? It’s more precious than gold!” Cullen said, peering at the totem.

“I found it when I closed the rift under the lake in Old Crestwood. Not enough to use for weapons or armor, but I held on to it.”

“It’s - it’s amazing,” Cullen breathed. It was his turn to enfold her in his arms.

On the shores of Lake Honnleath, they held each other for several moments. “Cullen,” Vira said finally.

“Yes?”

“Are we alone here? Are we safe?” Vira looked up at him.

“As far as I know. Why?”

“And your soldiers, do they have orders to come looking for you if you don’t report back?” Vira’s smile was suggestive.

“They do not,” Cullen said. “Though, I imagine if we’re away too long they may come find us.”

“How long?” Vira traced a finger down his chest.

“Long enough.” Cullen held her face in both hands and kissed her deeply.

Vira felt dizzy, just managing to catch her balance as she got lost in the kiss. “Mmmm, good,” she said, her voice just barely a moan.

“We may need to be quiet,” Cullen said, his lips moving down her neck. “If they hear shouting or screaming, they may decide to investigate.”

“I’ll do my best,” Vira said, gasping as he pulled her close, his mouth hot on hers. She ran her tongue over the scar on his lip and he groaned loudly.

“I thought we were being quiet?” Vira said.

“I’ll do my best,” Cullen answered, grinning.

Vira was sure that any elves in the camp could hear their soft pleading moans as they both explored each other with abandon. She was also sure she didn’t care.

Cullen ran his hands along her, his thumbs teasing her nipples through the soft leather of her shirt. She nipped his earlobe in response.

There are limits to how much skin can comfortably be caressed when wearing even minimal armor, and they soon reached those limits. Quickly, they each removed their gear, their fingers more dexterous than usual.

Vira finished first, and sat on a patch of moss, hugging her knees to her chest. She watched as Cullen yanked off his breastplate and greaves. When she finally caught sight of his chest, she licked her lips. The Commander was almost embarrassingly well-formed, his muscles in perfect proportion under his scarred skin.

He caught her looking up at him. With that devilish half-smile, he slowed, tossing the undershirt aside, flexing the muscles in his arms and chest. His hands began unbuckling his belt with agonizing slowness, the bulge in his trousers quite apparent.

One loop. Another. Vira lost patience and scrambled up to kneel, shoving his hands aside to remove the belt herself. Cullen laughed, the sound turning into a moan as Vira rubbed her cheek on the hard flesh straining in his pants.

“Tease me, will you? You’ll regret that,” she said.

“I doubt it.” Cullen moaned again as Vira bit at the seam in his pants. Gently, of course.

It was her turn to tease. With the belt out of the way, Vira undid the laces on his trousers, kissing her way down the skin as it was exposed. She ran her tongue along the well-defined groove in his hips, causing his hips to buck in response.

Finally, Vira couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. With one swift motion she yanked down the fabric, biting her lip in anticipation. She was rewarded. His embarrassingly handsome proportions held true. Now that he was exposed, she looked up at him.

The lust on his face was palpable. Maintaining eye contact, she licked his length, once, carefully and precisely.

Cullen groaned but held himself still. Vira repeated the procedure. He arched forward, ever so slightly.

Vira smirked. Once more, she licked, this time slowly, letting her tongue linger.

“Oh, please,” Cullen groaned.

That was what Vira wanted to hear. She took him into her mouth, completely. She drew him in and out, following with her hand. He moaned, trying to hold himself still, his hands on his hips.

Vira took his hands and placed them on the back of her head, giving him tacit permission to move. Cullen wove his fingers into her hair and thrust in and out, never more than she could handle.

She lost herself in his pleasure, her own body growing wet to the sound of his moans, her own muffled sounds echoing his.

“Vira...” Cullen said with difficulty. “I... I’m...”

She moaned and nodded, wanting to taste him. A moment later she did, the salty flavor filling her mouth.

With a shudder, he pulled away, sinking to his knees. “Maker’s breath,” he whispered. “That was... I....” He seemed unable to form coherent words. “Maker’s breath,” he said again.

“Do we need to bring the Maker into it?” Vira asked archly. “I’d like this to be just a you-and-me thing.”

Cullen laughed weakly, lowering himself to the ground. “Point noted.” He rolled to one side to face her. “No one’s ever...” he left it hanging.

“What, really? You’ve never had someone do that?” Vira was baffled.

“Well, not to such... final conclusion,” Cullen admitted.

Vira fought the urge to laugh. “To quote someone near to my heart, ‘you’re really missing out’,” she said, echoing the words of Thomas, her first lover.

“Perhaps you can help me catch up, my lady,” Cullen laughed.

“That depends,” Vira said coyly leaning over him. “What’s in it for me?”

With a growl, Cullen grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her to lay beneath him.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, drinking in the sight of her. He leaned down to kiss her.

Vira was extremely keyed up, and the kiss quickly became voracious. She squirmed beneath him, trying to gain purchase.

“Oh no,” he said, waggling one finger back and forth. “My turn, remember?”

Cullen’s tongue traced one ear, gently. His breath was maddeningly erotic on her skin. Lips then traced the hollow of her neck, her collarbone, her breasts.

He lingered for several moments there, nibbling and sucking, using his fingers to pinch and caress. Vira was by now out of her mind with lust, but Cullen would not relent. It slowly occurred to the Inquisitor that Cullen was not merely trying to make her feel good, but that he was also deriving a great deal of pleasure from exploring her body. The experience was novel and she gave herself over to his touch.

As his mouth continued its slow journey down her stomach, his hands began caressing her thighs, kneading the supple skin, teasing her.  

His stubble now tickled her hips. She arched her back in anticipation. He skipped his tongue down, now to her inner thighs, tracing up in a gesture reminiscent of her own earlier teases. Despite herself, Vira laughed.

He licked again, stopping his tongue agonizingly close from where she wanted it. Vira moaned.

She could feel his lips smile into her skin. Another lick, this one very slow.

“Please, Cullen,” she said. Vira was rewarded a second later by his mouth enveloping her swollen flesh, even as he plunged two fingers into her.

Her hips arched into him. He moaned in response, the vibrations adding to the pleasure she felt. His tongue made small circles in time to the rhythm of his fingers.

Vira curled up to look at him, to see his face buried between her legs. His eyes caught hers but he did not pause, continuing his efforts.

Her breath came in pants now, short gasps that were almost grunts. She stuffed her hand into her mouth to muffle herself. Release came a moment later, the pulses wracking through her body.

Before she could fully recover, Cullen stretched over her, mounting her in one fluid motion. The last spasms of Vira’s pleasure began to grow anew, amplified by the feeling of him inside her.

Cullen raised himself to his hands, continuing to thrust. They both looked down to see him entering her, over and over, his skin glistening with her moisture.

Vira reached up to hold his face. The were both panting now, punctuating each thrust with a sharp exhalation.

Cullen lowered to his elbows. The increased contact sent Vira’s body into a tailspin of pleasure. “Cullen,” she pleaded.

He increased his tempo. Vira wrapped her legs around him, and he groaned. His gasps became grunts; hers became moans.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck, biting at her skin as he fought to delay his own pleasure. The sensation drove Vira wild and she met his thrusts, bucking upwards, her orgasm building and building, beyond anything she had previously known. It broke over her like a tidal wave, inevitable, powerful. Her muscles clenched Cullen and he groaned his own release into her skin with a final thrust.

Several moments went by as they recovered.

Cullen raised his head. “Was that... all right?” He asked.

“Are you joking? You were _here_ , right? Not off somewhere else?” Vira laughed.

“Just checking,” Cullen said defensively. “It’s been... a long time,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure how I’d measure up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vira asked suspiciously.

“Well, I mean, I’m just an inexperienced Templar. I probably can’t compare to someone like, I don’t know, the Iron Bull, for example....” Cullen held up his hands and shrugged.

“Who told you about that?!?” Vira said, slapping him with the shirt she was about to put on.

“Varric,” Cullen admitted. “I made him tell me.”

“I cannot believe that dwarf,” Vira fumed, jamming the shirt over her head. “When I get my hands on him.... How did that even come up in conversation?”

Cullen scooted into his pants. He looked a bit sheepish. “Well, um, when you were... away from Skyhold, in... Crestwood, with Solas, I may have.... felt a bit sorry for myself.”

Vira looked confused. “And?”

“And, I may have drank most of a bottle of Blackwall’s Grey Whiskey.”

“And?”

“And I may have admitted to some of the others that I was... dismayed that you were off with Solas.”

“Dismayed that he was breaking my heart. Oh, yes, you’re making this quite clear.” Vira crossed her arms.

“Well, I didn’t know that, did I? Some of the others, they tried to... make me feel better. I was pretty drunk, but I thought something Bull said seemed a bit odd. When I sobered up, I persuaded Varric to explain.”

Vira rubbed her face with both hands. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I don’t know where to start. First off, how did you ‘persuade’ Varric?”

“I... may have put Bianca in danger.”

“You threatened his _crossbow_?”

Cullen looked sheepish. “With an axe.”

Vira looked as though she was about to respond, then thought better of it. “That aside, what, exactly, did Bull say?”

Cullen shied away from her. “Possibly something about Solas... not being man enough for you?” He grimaced apologetically. “He seemed quite convinced. As if he knew first-hand, you see.”

Vira closed her eyes and balled her hand into a fist, which she then bit. “I see,” she said finally.

“I should not have brought this up,” Cullen concluded.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Vira said, fastening the buckles on her boots. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just... I’m just embarrassed,” she admitted, not looking at him.

“Why?” Cullen said. “He’s a Qunari. It’s not like with _us_.”

Vira looked up in surprise.

“Did you... did you think it bothered me?” Cullen smiled.

It was Vira’s turn to look sheepish. “Well, I... yes, frankly. I thought it might bother you.”

He pulled her close and kissed her. “I think you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” he said. “Everything that’s ever happened to you made you who you are. I’m grateful for all of it, because it brought us here.”

Vira’s face softened. “Cullen,” she said, touching his cheek tenderly. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

She embraced him, burying her face in the fur cape on his shoulders.

“There is one thing you should know,” Vira said after a few moments.

“What is that?”

“Bull is very perceptive.” Vira said.

Cullen frowned in confusion, even as he held Vira to him. Then, after a moment, he began to laugh.


	14. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets to go to the Empress' Ball. People have opinions on Cullen's fur cape.

“That’s _almost_ right, my dear.” Vivienne sized up the Inquisitor. “Hold your arms out further, elbows bent. Now try it again.”

Vira sighed. She bowed for approximately the fifteenth time. “I can’t believe this is so difficult.”

“Very nice, darling, almost there.” Vivienne cooed. “Now, how are you at dancing?”

“As in, human dancing? Probably awful,” Vira admitted. “Will anyone really want to dance with me? I’m Dalish.”

“Oh, my dear, simply _everyone_ will be gasping to dance with _you_ ,” Vivienne said with a smirk.

“I’ll be hunting down an assassin,” Vira protested to Josephine, who sat nearby. “There won’t be time for dancing, surely.”

Josephine and Vivienne exchanged a look, then both broke into peals of laughter. Leliana walked in. “What’s so amusing?”

“I am,” Vira said. “With my foolish backwater notions of preventing the Empress from being murdered taking precedence over swishing around the dance floor.”

Leliana laughed. “That _is_ quite provincial, yes.”

Vira rolled her eyes and curtseyed.

“Excellent!” Vivienne crowed.

Vira spent the following three days cloistered with Vivienne, Josephine, and Leliana in the war room - etiquette, floor plans of the palace, which nobles to speak to and which to snub. They even got Dorian to give Vira dancing lessons. She found she quite enjoyed it, actually.

The Inquisition rode to Halamshiral, the Winter Palace of the Empire of Orlais, with all due pomp. The closer they got to the palace, the quieter the Inquisitor became.

“Are you alright, Inquisitor?” Cullen rode up next to her.

“What? Oh, yes,” Vira said. “Well, no, actually. I was less nervous staring down the Breach.”

He flashed one of his crooked smiles. “I know what you mean,” he said. “All this frippery makes me uncomfortable.” He waved at himself.

Vira gave him a slow once-over. “Well, you certainly look good, Commander. It suits you.”

“Does it?” Cullen was flustered.

“Very much so,” Vira added, giving him a direct look.

“Well. I - thank you,” he stuttered.

“Yeah, it’s nice to finally see you without a dead animal on your shoulders,” Bull said, riding up behind them on his way to the front of the march.

Vira stifled a laugh.

“What’s wrong with my cape?” Cullen called out after the Qunari. “He was joking, right?” he asked Vira. “I like that fur cape.”

“It’s very....” she began.

“Manky,” Sera finished, also riding to the front. “The word she’s looking for is ‘manky’.”

Vira's attempt to stifle this laugh were not as successful.

“Does anyone else want to comment about my fur cape?” Cullen said loudly. “Please make an orderly queue. Oh, by the Maker,” he muttered, as the rest of the companions began obediently lining up.

“You did ask,” Vira reminded him as he glowered.

“It’s a very nice cape,” Cullen insisted. “Bear fur. I killed it myself.”

“Yes, but did you wash it after, my dear?” Vivienne sniffed.

“Bear? I thought it was some kind of exotic bird plumage,” Dorian said.

“No, it’s definitely bear,” Varric said. “A very old, very dirty, bear.”

“I like it,” Cole said. “It makes you look like a lion.”

“A lion in need of a bath, perhaps,” Solas added.

“It certainly helps make up for your lack of respectable facial hair,” Blackwall remarked, stroking his own luxurious beard.

“Stop making fun of the Commander,” Cassandra said. Cullen’s face brightened. Cassandra continued. “If he wants to wear his security blanket on his shoulders for all to see, let him.”

Cullen looked to Vira in dismay. “Do you like it?” he pleaded.

“Cole’s right,” Vira said, laying a hand on his arm. “It does make you look like a lion. And I enjoy resting my head on your fuzzy shoulders very much.”

“Well. That’s all right then.”

They reached Halamshiral in good time. There were several hours before the ball for the Inquisition to dust off their uniforms and make ready.

Vira examined her attire meticulously, adjusting and readjusting her sash and belt. Bull sidled up to her. “You got this, boss,” he said. “Stop tugging your clothes. You’ll rip them. I’m telling you: these mask-lickers are no match for you. Just remember: Every single person is lying. It’s as simple as that.”

“Thanks, Bull.” Vira took a deep breath.

“You want a quick tumble, to take the edge off? You don’t have to get naked.”

“Thanks, but no, Bull. I can’t be all wobbly-kneed. I need an edge.” Vira laughed.

“Suit yourself,” he said, sauntering away.

Vira and her advisers and companions gathered for a final meeting. Most of them wore matching Inquisition uniforms; the bright red military garb was sure to stand out from the fashion currently favored in Orlais. Cole, of course, was dressed as Cole. Vira had never seen him wear any other clothing. He would shadow Vira through the evening, staying hidden from view but able to step in with his daggers if the need arose. Sera was dressed in non-descript servant’s clothing, albeit with a strip of crimson ribbon tied around one arm. It was hoped that her Red Jenny persona would be suited to infiltrate Briala’s network. Vira already felt bad for the assembled nobility, sure to find many pieces of small, expensive jewelry missing from their persons by the end of the night.

Solas had agreed to change out of his normal tunic and wear a set of formal Dalish Keeper robes, though he still wore the wolf jaw amulet around his neck. The robes highlighted his role as the Inquisition’s advisor to matters concerning the Fade and Dalish artifacts. As the meeting concluded, Vira walked up to the elven apostate, who leaned on his staff, looking at the palace thoughtfully.

“Thank you for agreeing to this bit of deception,” Vira said.

Solas smiled. “What deception? I am, in fact, your advisor on the Fade, am I not?”

“I mean the robes,” Vira said. “I know how you feel about the Dalish.” She looked at him carefully. “You look different, somehow,” Vira said, tilting her head to the side. “More...” she struggled to put it into words.

The setting sun broke from behind a cloud to bathe them in golden light. It shone on Solas, standing on the hillside in Keeper regalia, the elven palace glowing behind him. For an instant, Vira’s vision was overlaid by another image: Solas, taller, powerful, with a cowl and cape of wolf-fur, an orb in his hand. The palace behind him was no longer Halamshiral, but Arlathan, larger and mightier and more beautiful, a city of golden spires reaching to heaven.

The anchor on Vira’s hand suddenly tingled, and she rubbed her palm. The sun dipped behind the cloud again. Vira blinked. The vision was gone so quickly that Vira could hardly comprehend what she thought she saw. Yet her heart felt like it was going to burst from aching, filled with sudden longing for what had been lost.

Solas regarded her, his face tinged with regret. “We all have masks, Lethallan. I am happy to wear this one, for you, tonight.” His voice was gentle, but it shot through Vira like an arrow.

“Solas, I -” Vira was cut off by the sound of a horn.

It was time. She rushed back to the group, taking her place between Cullen and Leliana.

“Are you well?” Cullen whispered, concerned.

“I - yes,” Vira said. “I am.”

They approached the palace in formation. Vira marched slowly through the honor guard through the gate. She spied the party-goers inside, swanning about in ridiculous clothes and hats. Her resolve hardened. She was trying to save the world, and these Orlesian idiots were obsessing over who slept with whom and how much their masks cost. And doing it all in a palace that was once the jewel of the Elven empire, before it was taken away by humans.

She reached the front of the honor guard. The ranks closed behind her and she walked to greet Gaspard. All nervousness had evaporated. She _was_ the Inquisitor.

It was a bit later, when Josephine approached Leliana and Cullen. “Our Inquisitor cuts quite a swath. I am embarrassed to admit I was ever worried about her acumen in the Grand Game.”

“Perhaps it is her kinship to wolves that gives her an advantage,” Leliana drawled.

“She is amazing,” Cullen breathed, catching a glance of Vira across the ballroom as she bowed gracefully to a Duchess. Vira looked in his direction and winked.

“Quite,” Leliana noted dryly. “Much more interesting than your admirers, I hope?” The spy looked over Cullen’s shoulder at the group of ladies, and one gentleman, who anxiously awaited the Commander’s return.

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Cullen groaned. “Do you know how many dances I’ve turned down?”

Solas approached them. “If I might have a word in private, Commander?”

The advisors blinked in surprise. “Of course, Solas.” Cullen followed the elf on to a secluded veranda.

“Our Commander’s getting ‘the talk’,” Leliana said. “I wonder how he will take it?”

Josephine sighed. “Graciously, I hope. I can’t imagine how many apologies I would have to write if the Commander breaks Solas’ nose during the ball. Blood _does_ tend to stain the marble so.”

Once outside, the Commander turned to the elf. “What’s this about, Solas?” Cullen asked, not hiding the suspicion in his voice.

Solas sighed, looking out over the garden. “I fear you might not want to hear what I have to say. But it must be said.”

“Then say it.” Cullen crossed his arms.

“Your feelings for the Inquisitor. They shine like a beacon.”

“I don’t see what business that is of yours,” Cullen glowered.

“It is the business of everyone who sees your face light up with joy when you talk to her. It... makes me glad to see.”

The Commander frowned. “Funny, you don’t sound glad.”

Solas laughed hollowly. “A fair point. I should say, it makes me glad on her behalf, though it causes me great pain.”

“Get to the point, Solas.”

The elf cleared his throat. “I know there is no love lost between you and I, Commander. And through my blundering and selfishness, I caused Vir’athawen a great deal of pain.”

“You broke her heart, you mean,” Cullen accused.

“There is more to it than you can ever know. I could live a thousand years and the guilt will never diminish. It was never my intent to get so involved. But as you no doubt know, she has a way of breaking down barriers built over a lifetime with one smile.” Solas paused. “Vir’athawen needs you,” he said finally, the words appearing to cause him difficulty. “I opened a doorway that I will never be able to fully close. I have done what I could to help her heal, become whole. I think you, your.... love,” he said, closing his eyes in pain at the words, “ - it can be the balm she needs.”

Cullen’s frown softened. “Solas, I can’t pretend to understand all you’ve said, although I respect how difficult it was for you to say. But I’m a soldier, not a philosopher. I respond best to direct orders, not monologues.”

Solas opened his mouth to speak, then paused. Instead, he laughed. Despite himself, Cullen joined in. The Commander had never seen the elf laugh with such genuine abandon before.

The mage laid a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “Point taken. I have seen Vir’athawen’s face as she talks to you. She wishes to make you happy, to mirror the joy you have given her. She will try to protect those last lingering traumas, shield them from you, the way skin swells over a poisoned splinter. The joy you kindle in her can counteract that poison.”

Cullen looked at the elf in mild surprise. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it will not be easy, for any of us, Commander,” the elf said pointedly. “Now, I believe you have a throng of admirers, breathlessly awaiting you. You’d best return before Josephine starts accepting requests for dances on your behalf.”

“Maker’s breath, she wouldn’t!” Cullen dashed back inside.

Solas smiled. Beside him, Cole popped into view. The young man looked around in confusion.

“Hello, Cole,” Solas said. “I thought you were with the Inquisitor.”

“I was, but then it seemed like she was here, too: pain and joy, sorrow and bliss.”

“You sensed the feelings in the heart of myself and the Commander,” Solas said. “They are quite strong.”

“Yes,” Cole said. “Both are true, the pain and the joy. Together they make her whole.”

Solas smiled sadly. “Perhaps. Where is Vir’athawen now?”

Cole concentrated. “She is... stalking, hunting, preying. The Game is her game: secrets, spies, scandal. She is a wolf among the bright sheep. But not the only one,” he said. Cole disappeared.

“Indeed,” Solas said, looking up at the moonlit sky.

It was later, much later, when Vira finally got her dance with Cullen. On the balcony, they held each other close, swaying in time to the music coming from the ballroom.

“You’re not bad at this, for a Templar,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“And you’re not bad either, for a Dalish.”

Vira laughed. “I can’t believe we pulled it off. Celene is alive, and I reconciled her with Briala. I think there will be a positive uptick in human-elven relations soon, don’t you?”

“ _We_ didn’t pull it off, _you_ did,” Cullen corrected. “And if I had my way, there would be positive progress in human-elven relationships quite soon.” He twirled the Inquisitor into a low dip. “There are so many bedrooms in this palace, from what I understand.”

She laughed as he pulled her back to standing. “You think this place offers any more privacy than Skyhold?”

“Mmmm, probably not,” Cullen conceded. “But then again, there is sure to be a flurry of activity in the guest quarters. Perhaps one or two more doors opening and closing would be lost in the confusion. And this is Orlais. You think there will be many sleeping alone tonight?”

Cullen’s back was to the garden. Vira looked over his shoulder at a figure walking across the manicured terraces. It was Solas. The elf paused to look up at the dancing pair silhouetted against the light from the ballroom behind them. His eyes tightened in pain for the briefest moment before he continued on his way.

Vira felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. “Perhaps one,” she said quietly.

“Oh? And what unlucky soul is that?” Cullen said with a laugh.

Vira looked at Cullen, his handsome features so open and joyful, smiling his lopsided smile for her and her alone. “Cole,” she recovered. “Who else?”

“Don’t say that,” Cullen snickered. “You never know when he might be watching.”


	15. Legacy of Elandrin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor talks in her sleep. Cullen confronts Solas about what he heard.

Cullen awoke from light slumber, the evening sky purple over the tower in which he slept. Vira lay next to him, sleeping deeply. She had returned earlier that day from the tomb of the Emerald Knights, an elvish ruin called Din’an Hanin.

The Commander had thought Vira seemed a bit subdued as she debriefed the advisors that afternoon. This was hardly surprising, however. The party had arrived to find all of the Dalish slaughtered, along with the advance Inquisition troops. However, they were able to secure the artifact, some sort of historic scroll, and return it to the Keeper of the nearby Dalish clan.

Privately, Cullen had worried about the mission. It was the first time since Crestwood that Solas accompanied Vira in the field. There was no denying he was the right mage for the mission, but still, Cullen felt a tinge of doubt.

After the meeting, Vira had practically leapt into Cullen’s arms. Her kisses were soft and sweet, somehow sad at the same time. Things had progressed from there in rather the usual manner.

“Elandrin,” Vira muttered in her sleep. Cullen rolled carefully to look at her.

“Emma ir abelas,” she murmured. “Ma vhenan him dor’felas, Solas. Ma vhenan...”

Cullen’s heart froze. He did not speak elvish, but he knew what “ma vhenan” meant. How many times had she whispered that phrase to him? Ma vhenan, my heart....

A sickening dread washed over the Commander. Barely daring to breathe, he rose from the bed. With a detached sense of calm, he dressed.

It was only a few dozen yards from his office to the rotunda. He stormed inside to see Solas standing there. Without breaking stride Cullen grabbed the elf by the tunic and pushed him into the wall.

“You filthy snake,” Cullen’s voice was a low growl. “Do you still love her? Do you?” He punctuated his questions with rough shoves.

“Would you like to tell me what this is about?” Solas said, his voice calm.

Cullen narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Commander,” Solas said, “Might I remind you that you no longer have the benefit of the powers conferred by lyrium? Do you think it wise to threaten a mage, in your condition?” The air around them crackled with electricity, a not-so-subtle reminder of the power Solas had at his command.

Cullen’s jaw clenched as he weighed the risks. With a final shove, he let go of the elf.

“You want to know what this is about?” Cullen fumed. “What it’s about is Vira. Right now. Talking in her sleep. Saying your _name_ ,” Cullen poked Solas in the chest, hard. “Calling you....” Cullen’s voice broke. “Calling you _vhenan_ ,” he finished in a whisper. He sank on to the couch. The anger drained out of him, supplanted by despair as he put words to his worst fear.

“What?” Solas’ face, which had been flush with anger, turned white. “What exactly did she say?” The elf asked intently.

Cullen shook his head. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” He groaned. “Emma something... abelas... him dor’fels.”

Solas relaxed. “It is not what you think, Commander. That is part of the elven eulogy. ‘I am filled with sorrow. My heart has become gray and slow.’”

Cullen looked at the elf suspiciously.

Solas rattled off the words. “‘Emma ir abelas, souver'inan isala hamin, vhenan him dor'felas, in uthenera na revas.’ We spoke them at the tomb together, trying to lay the undead to rest. Did Vir’athawen not tell you what we found there?”

“Some sort of historical record, I thought.”

“I suppose it is not surprising that she has not yet shared the information with you. It affected her deeply. Perhaps she is not yet ready to speak of it.” Solas retrieved a scroll of parchment from his desk and handed it to Cullen. “I have translated it into Common.”

Cullen snatched the parchment out of his hand. He unfurled it and began to read, frowning. After a moment, his expression softened. “Is this true? Red Crossing was a bloodbath. It started the Exalted March, lead to genocide of the elves. It all began because a human and an elf fell in love?”

Solas nodded. “The elf Elandrin was in love with Adalene, a human, but they kept their love a secret. The elves suspected the humans of trying to steal Elandrin from them, trick him into following the Maker. When Siona, Elandrin’s sister, saw Adalene, she killed her. Elandrin refused to leave the body of his beloved. When the humans found him, his fate was sealed. You can see why the account affected Vir’athawen so deeply.”

Cullen took a deep breath. “Solas, I... I apologize. I misjudged you.”

“No. You did not. You may have misunderstood the situation, but you are correct. I cannot extinguish my feelings for Vir’athawen, but I can put them to one side. I must.”

They regarded each other for a moment. “Solas, I can’t say I trust you. I certainly don’t understand you. I’m not sure I even like you. But if you feel half of what I feel for Vira, and you can truly put those feelings aside, you’re stronger than all of my troops combined.”

Solas smiled. “Thank you, Commander. Come, let us discuss this somewhere more private.” The elf pointed one finger upward.

Cullen looked up to see Dorian leaning on the railing overlooking the rotunda, his chin in his fist, watching the encounter with great interest. He waved down at them.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered, slumping. He scowled up at the Tevinter mage. “Not a word, you.”

“Commander, I’m hurt,” Dorian said in an offended tone.

About an hour later, Cullen made his way to the dining hall. Vira sat there with Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric, the remains of a meal on the table.

“Hello, Commander,” Dorian said, a devilish gleam in his eye. “Have a calm, uneventful evening, have you?”

“Why yes, Dorian, I do believe it has been a completely boring evening, utterly without events of note.” Cullen scowled.

“Hey!” Vira protested. She blinked at him.

“Oh, ah, aside from an exciting and fulfilling late afternoon, that is,” Cullen corrected himself as he sat.

“That’s better,” Vira said, handing him the bowl of stew. “Hope you like ram meat.”

“I love it, personally,” Dorian said.

“We _know_ ,” the others said in unison.

“What have you been up to, actually?” Vira asked curiously.

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmured, with a hard look at Dorian.

The mage mimed sealing his lips and locking them with a key, quickly altering the gesture to twirling his moustache as Vira looked over in suspicion.

“What is going on?” Cassandra said, looking around the table at all the significant glances and hidden gestures. “I do not like being left in the dark.”

At that moment, Sera walked in. “You lot, you should come to the Tavern, yeah? Krem’s brought back some mead from a Charger raid. That is if you’re done roughing up eggheads,” she said to Cullen.

“What?” Vira spun to face the Commander. He buried his face in his hands.

“Oh ho ho ho,” Sera laughed. “Didn’t you hear, Quizzie? Might leave you two to it, then.”

Vira’s eyes narrowed. “My quarters. Now,” she said to Cullen in a low voice, stalking out of the dining hall.

With a groan, Cullen followed, his steps as heavy as a man walking to the gallows.

“Good luck, Commander,” Varric called after him.

The others sat for a moment. “Well. More mead for us, right?” Sera giggled. “Come on.”

Back in her quarters, Vira rubbed her forehead in frustration. “So, my military advisor, a former Templar, assaulted one of my most trusted mages, is that what I’m hearing? It’s too much to dare to hope that it was over something less petty than... woman troubles?”

Cullen flinched. “I would beg to differ on your choice of terms, Inquisitor. My feelings are not ‘petty’, not for you. And neither are Solas’.”

Her jaw clenched and she looked away. “Don’t change the subject. What happened?” Vira caught her hands behind her back, turning to look out over the balcony.

“I did... have an altercation with Solas. That much is true. It was very minor, and we’ve come to an understanding. I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

“How minor?” Vira’s voice was cold, clinical.

Cullen sighed. “I pushed him into a wall. He threatened me with magic. We argued for a few moments. That was it.”

Vira considered for a few moments. “Fenedhis,” she swore softly. “You understand how this looks, Commander. You said it yourself: gossip spreads through the barracks like wildfire. Now I’ve got two of my top men, brawling for my favor in the rotunda. I cannot think how that will play out in Val Royeaux.”

“Actually, they’ll eat it right up. Orlesians love this sort of thing,” Cullen said ruefully. “Inquisitor, I lost my temper. It happens in times of war. I can promise you it won’t happen again.”

Vira turned back to him. “No, it won’t. That’s an order, Commander.”

Cullen rose to his feet and saluted sharply, his face grave.

Vira shook her head, a grin starting to show itself on her face. She was a sucker for serious military-types, and he knew it. His own crooked smile crept out from hiding.

“I’ll see if Josie can’t spin this in our favor somehow. I don’t know about you, but I’d like a glass of wine,” Vira said.

“That is an excellent suggestion.”

They ensconced themselves in the plush chairs in front of the fire, sipping their wine.

“What brought this all on, Cullen? I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Cullen set his wineglass down. He pursed his lips. “You were talking in your sleep this afternoon.”

She smiled. “ _You_ do that all the time.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I know.” Cullen continued, his voice serious. “You said some things in elvish, and then you said... ma vhenan. And then you said... Solas.” Cullen stared into the fire, not meeting her eyes.

“What?” She whispered.

“I panicked. I was so sure that something had happened between you two in the field, I went mad with rage. I confronted Solas. After we... calmed down, he told me what the other words you said meant. It was the eulogy that you spoke in the tomb.”

Cullen looked over at Vira. She looked horrified. “Cullen, I am so sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Vira. You can’t help what you dream. Although one day I hope you’ll be talking about me in your sleep.”

Vira felt like her heart was going to burst. “Cullen,” she began.

“No. I have something I want to say.” Cullen got out of his chair to kneel before her. He took her hand.

“Vir’athawen,” he began tentatively, his mouth tripping on the elven pronunciation. “Ma emma lath, ma vhenan’ara, ma sulahn’nehn theneras.”

She whispered the words back to him, tears in her eyes. “You are my love, my heart, my dream of joy. Oh Cullen.” Vira threw her arms around him.

For a long time, she held him tightly. Then with a sudden realization, she pushed him away. “Where did you learn to say that?”

“Solas, of course.” Cullen laughed. “I don’t think Sera speaks much elven, do you?”

Vira swatted him on the arm. “Why did you - how did he -”

Cullen’s lopsided grin cut through her stuttering. “After all he’s put you through, the least he can do is help me to make you happy, right?”

“Well, yes, but...” Vira crinkled her nose. “It’s just... weird.”

“It’s the end of the world, my love. Stranger things have happened.” He leaned in for a kiss.

 


	16. Adamant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The siege of Adamant, from Commander Cullen's perspective.

Cullen watched in horror from his vantage point outside the fortress as the dragon wheeled overhead, spraying the battlements with fire. Tiny figures ran across the walls as lightning flashed from Clarel’s staff. She was fighting the dragon. A glimmer of hope burned in his chest. Perhaps, if the Warden Commander could -

Another fireball. Stones crumbling. Bodies falling. Then, a flash of green light. The dragon wheeled off.

There was a moment, just the briefest of an instant, of utter, blackest despair. Then Cullen’s training took over. He straightened, shouting to his troops. “Sound the horn to fall back and regroup. And send a recovery team to the rubble!” He pointed to where Vira and the others had fallen. “We need those bodies recovered!” Runners scattered to carry out his orders.

The collapse of the wall had bought them precious time, but at huge cost. Cullen watched as warriors, both Inquisition and Warden, fought their way outside the fortress main gate.

“What’s the situation?” Cullen’s eyes never left the battle as he addressed his third-in-command.

The Captain saluted wearily. “Battlements are clear, thanks to the Herald. Some pockets of demons left. They seem to be falling back to the central courtyard. I’ve got a scout on his way.”

Cullen’s troops continued to fall back to beyond arrow shot of the walls. Not that arrows were an issue any longer. Once the dragon had appeared, every Warden not controlled by Corypheus had ceased fighting the Inquisition and turned on the demons.

The Commander surveyed his remaining forces. Too few to take the keep. His gut clenched. Well. It’d be a good way to die.

Two runners approached.

“Commander, the bodies...” the first runner said.

“What of them?” Cullen snapped.

“There were none.” The captain said.

“What?”

“No bodies, ser. The Herald might have fallen off the battlements, but she didn’t land. None of them did.”

Cullen’s mind raced. That flash of green light. What if... what if she....

The Commander looked up. A similar green glow could be seen, faintly, emanating from the center of the fortress.

“Report,” he snapped to the second runner, not daring to hope.

“The demons and mages have fallen back to the center courtyard. There’s a Fade rift in there, a big one. They’re all just standing around, staring at it. I think they’re waiting for something.”

Cullen’s mind raced as the troops assembled. They regrouped a few moments later. Vira’s companions stood at the front of the group, their faces grim. The Iron Bull, Solas, and Cole were missing. Cullen realized they must have been with Vira when she fell.

The Commander stepped on to a pile of rubble to address his troops. “You saw the Herald of Andraste fall,” he said, his voice strong and clear. “We all did. But she _did not land_. She is in the Fade, where she has walked before. Perhaps Andraste will guide her safely home to us once more. We must clear a path for her. We must take the courtyard!” he shouted, drawing his sword. “For Andraste! For the Maker! For the Herald!”

With a cry that shook the desert sand, the troops raised their swords and their voices.

Cullen stepped down from his makeshift pulpit. Blackwall turned to him, one eyebrow raised. “Do you really believe...?”

“I must, Blackwall. Maker guide us,” Cullen said. “Let’s move.”

The outer areas of the fortress were empty. The Commander and Vira’s companions took point, the main forces behind.

There was no resistance. The entire enemy force had fallen back to the inner courtyard and dropped the gate behind them. Cullen peeked around the wall to assess the situation.

A moment later, he turned back. “We need to raise that gate. Varric, you’re the expert on locks and traps. Vivienne will get you inside. Get that gate raised. Sera, take the archers. You should be able to climb the rubble to make it to the top of the wall. Target the mages. The demons seem focused on the rift, but be careful. Don’t let them see you. Blackwall, you and Cassandra are with me.”

“And what do you want me to do, Commander?” Dorian said.

Cullen flashed a lopsided smile. “I’m sure you’ll do what you do best, Dorian. And look good doing it.”

The orders were passed quietly throughout the rest of the troops. Varric took a deep breath, then hid himself in shadow. Vivienne cast Fade Walk on the dwarf, magically moving him beyond the gates to the courtyard.

They waited. It seemed like an eternity. Then, the sound they all hoped for: the gate crank mechanism sprang to life.

Instantly, the eyes of all the demons and mages focused on the gate. Sera and the archers took aim and fired, felling half the mages in one volley. The troops ran for the courtyard, but would be at least thirty seconds before they reached the mass of demons and mages. At least a dozen enemies were closing in on Varric as he ran away from the gate mechanism.

Not fast enough. A horror appeared directly in front of him. With a casual swipe, the demon hurled the dwarf through the air. He crashed into the stone wall with a sickening crunch, then struggled to rise.

“Vivienne!” Cullen pointed at their fallen friend.

The mage was already casting a barrier around the now-inert dwarf. With a flash, she was gone, only to reappear at Varric’s side, a healing potion in her hand, ice wards surrounding them on all sides.

Cassandra’s mace flashed like lightning, crushing the demons unfortunate enough to come within striking distance. Blackwall’s shield bashed through the unarmored mages, breaking bones, and more importantly, disrupting spells in the process. Sera leapt into the fray. Raising a small bottle in her hand, she smashed it on her chest. Instantly she was engulfed in magical flame, increasing her ferocity, her now-fiery arrows loosed with blinding speed. Dorian’s staff whirled as he sprayed the demons with lightning. He had felled a half-dozen demons, then raised them with his necromancy. The demon’s bodies now glowed blue as they attacked their own.

Still, the battle wore on. A Warden fell, and then two Inquisition troops. An archer tumbled to the ground as a shade appeared directly behind him. Three more Wardens down. Now six Inquisition troops fell. A dozen.

They were outnumbered. The demons seemed endless. The pain and fatigue began to set in to Cullen’s heart. Even if Vira made it out of the Fade, he might not be there to see it. Grimly, he pushed the thought from his mind.

Then, it happened. The rift exploded with light. Four figures can tumbling out. Vira rolled to her feet, the anchor already flashing. She held her palm aloft, and with a dismissive wave of her hand, closed the rift.

Instantly, all the demons disappeared. The remaining Warden mages tumbled to the ground in shock as the binding spell was ripped away.

Cullen fell to his knees with relief. “Thank the Maker,” he breathed. There was a moment of near-silence. Cullen looked up at Vira, standing in the center of the courtyard. Their eyes met. Somehow, a well of laughter bubbled up inside him. She smiled and saluted him.

“Inquisitor, where is Stroud? He is the only Warden of rank left,” one of the soldiers asked.

“Stroud died a hero,” Vira said, her voice ringing out over the fortress.

Cullen rose to his feet, watching her address the troops. He barely heard a word she said, drinking in the sight of her face, full of the passion and determination that had rallied so many to the Inquisition. A cheer rose through the ranks; Cullen’s sword and voice joined in the salute.

And then she was there, beside him. He wanted to sweep her from her feet, ravish her with kisses. The aftermath of pitched battle not being the most romantic of settings, he settled for a heartfelt salute.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.

“And I you,” Vira replied, returning his salute.

The allowed themselves a moment, resting their foreheads together. Then Vira sighed. “How did our forces fare, Commander?” she asked seriously.

They walked out of the courtyard. “Better than the Wardens, though we took heavy losses.”

“It’s a good thing I recruited the Wardens into the Inquisition, then?” Vira said thoughtfully.

“You _what_?” Cullen said. “After what they did?”

Vira blinked at him. “Didn’t you hear my speech? You were standing right there.”

“I was... distracted, my lady Inquisitor,” he said, giving her one of his crooked smiles.

“Commander!” Vira stuck her hands on her hips. “Honestly. What am I going to do with you?” She shook her head.

“I thought we’d rather established that already,” Dorian said, walking up to them. “Have you seen Hawke?”

“He’s checking on Varric, no doubt. Why?” Cullen asked.

“Oh, no reason. Definitely nothing to do with that bewitching tattoo or his fantastic hair.” Dorian strolled away.

Vira laughed. “I’m glad to see some things never change.”

Later that evening, the sounds of celebration rang through the Inquisition. Vira and the others sat around a large campfire, laughing and drinking and raising toasts. Even Solas sat with them, frowning into his tankard.

“Something wrong with your ale?” Vira asked, sitting beside the elf.

“Ale is ale,” Solas said. “I’ve never enjoyed the taste.”

“More for us, then,” Vira said, toasting his cup. “Solas, I heard what the nightmare demon said to you in the Fade, but I still don’t understand. He called you Harellan - kin-traitor.”

Solas regarded his tankard. “He did. Such is the way of his kind, to reach into the past and pluck at our greatest fears and regrets. Though he made an error in my case. The incident he referred to happened long ago, but it is not my deepest regret.” The elf looked at Vira, not quite able to hide the pain in his eyes.

“Solas, I - I’m glad you were with me, in the Fade. Everyone else was out of their mind with fear, but you stayed calm. It helped me to see you so in control.” Vira said. “I’m not sure I could have made it through without you.”

Solas smiled. “It was from you that I drew strength, da’len.”

“Yes, well....” Vira stared into her tankard, then drained it. “I’m getting another cup. I don’t suppose you’d like a refill? Or, not,” she said, laughing at his grimace.

The Inquisitor refilled her tankard in the ale tent. Twice, actually, as the first time, Bull had taken it upon himself to toast her, smashing his own tankard into hers so hard that most of the contents ended up on the ground. She couldn’t fault his enthusiasm. Their time in the Fade had been harrowing for all.

She sat across the campfire from Solas, not trusting herself to speak to him further. The truth was, seeing him in the Fade had brought back a well of powerful emotions, feelings she thought she had laid to rest. He had been so strong, so confident. Power and strength had shimmered from him like heat. It was alluring.

Cole appeared next to Solas. Vira’s elven ears could easily pick up their conversation.

“Ar lasa mala revas. You are free. You are so beautiful.” Cole said, reading Solas’ feelings. He looked at the elf. “But then you turned away. Why?”

“I had no choice,” Solas said quietly. He looked over at Vira. Through the flickering flames, their eyes met.

“She is bare-faced, embarrassed, and she doesn’t know. She thinks it’s because of _her_.” Cole said, tilting his head to one side as his empathy reached out to Vira.

“You cannot heal this pain, Cole. Please, let it go.” Solas may have been speaking to the boy, but it was Vira’s gaze he held. “Dar ena halam’shivanas. Mala suledin nadas.”

“It is the bittersweet sacrifice of duty,” Vira whispered, repeating his words. “Now we must endure.” She looked down into her cup. “Ma tel’banal? Is there to be nothing between us?”

“Var theneras.”

Vira raised her eyes once more. “Only in dreams,” Vira said to herself.

Solas regarded her sadly. With a last grimace into his tankard, he rose and strode to his tent, passing his tankard to Sera. The thief regarded it suspiciously, sniffing the cup. With a shrug, she downed the drink in one gulp.

Varric sank down next to Vira, wincing slightly. “You know, you keep talking to yourself like that, people will think you’re fade-touched.”

Vira smiled. “Maybe I am. I heard what you did for us today. It was very brave. Thanks, Varric.” She held out her drink for a toast.

“Well, this whole thing is partially my fault,” the dwarf acknowledged. “The least I can do is trip a gate for the good guys.” He peered across the revelry. “Dorian’s cornered Hawke again. I’d better go rescue him.”

“Do you have to? He’s the only one who can keep up with Dorian’s sarcasm. And they look so handsome together.” Vira smirked.

Cullen sat on Vira’s other side. “Who looks handsome together?” he said, smiling his lopsided grin. Vira pointed at Hawke and Dorian.

“Good thing Bull’s not the jealous type,” Cullen laughed as he looked at the two mages. “They do make a rather fetching pair.”

The dwarf winced as he rose, still not recovered from his injury. “I gotta get over there before Hawke finds himself in over his head.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Vira snickered.

Cullen elbowed her, laughing. “I do believe the evening is about to get rather rowdy.” A huge cheer rose from a few yards away as the Iron Bull hoisted Scout Harding on to his shoulders. The dwarf seemed so tiny as she clung to his horns, laughing with abandon.

Vira looked at Cullen, his crooked smile and laughing eyes. All trace of the angst she had felt moments ago washed away, like the sun breaking from behind clouds.

“You know, Commander, I had something sent to your tent earlier. You may want to check it out.”

“You did?” He blinked. “But I was just there.”

“Check again,” she said, winking.

“What, now?” Cullen looked at her suspiciously.

“I can order you, if you like,” Vira laughed.

He stood and gave her a crisp salute. “At once, my lady Inquisitor.”

He turned with military precision and began to march through the encampment. His tent flap wiggled slightly as he approached. He raised the canvas, frowning in confusion.

Vira sat on the edge of his cot, calmly swinging her legs.

“What - how did you?” He spun around.

“Assassin,” she reminded him, pointing to herself. “I am rather good at not being seen, you know.”

“But there’s so many wonderful bits to look at. It’s a shame to deprive us, you know.” Cullen pushed her gently by the shoulders as he climbed on top of her.

“Us?” She laughed.

“You belong to the world, Inquisitor. Or didn’t you know?” Cullen smiled down on her.

“I’d settle for just belonging to you for the night.”

There was that lopsided grin. “I believe that can be arranged, Inquisitor.”


	17. Victory's Spoils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira and Cullen celebrate the victory at Adamant privately. Vira encounters a strange wolf in the desert.

It was later in the night. The sounds of celebration had mostly died away, although quiet conversations floated over the encampment, peppered with laughter and snatches of song.

Vira breathed deeply, stretching as she rolled off of Cullen.

“Mmmm,” he said. “I never get tired of seeing you do that.”

“I never seem to tire of doing it,” Vira said.

“Well that all works out, then, doesn’t it?” Cullen stared at the canvas stretched over his head. “What was it like? The Fade, I mean. I know what you told the others, but what was it like really?”

Vira shuddered. “A nightmare. Literally. Except we couldn’t wake up. And the voice of the nightmare demon followed us everywhere, exposing all of our worst fears. It took all my effort to keep from screaming in terror the entire time. I thought I would go mad. And these smaller demons came at us, wave after wave. Everyone saw a different thing - whatever they feared the most, that is what form the creatures took.”

“What did they look like to you?” Cullen rolled to look at her.

Vira bit her lip. “Spiders,” she said finally.

Cullen blinked. “After all you’ve been through, the countless demons and red templars and mages and darkspawn and undead that you’ve faced, you’re afraid of... spiders?”

“They were very big spiders,” Vira said. “Anyway it’s not like we got to choose.”

“I know what mine would be. Abominations. As a Templar, I saw too many mages fail their harrowing.” He shuddered.

They sat quietly for a few moments. “When I saw you fall, I thought I might... I don’t know, cease to exist. I felt like the ground might swallow me whole.” Cullen admitted.

Vira hugged him tightly. “I’m still here, Cullen.”

“You are,” he breathed. “How are such things possible? Truly, it is a reminder to live life to the fullest.”

Vira laughed. “I try,” she said.

Cullen chuckled. “It’s amazing how many things we put off, hoping they’ll happen one day.”

“True.” Vira propped herself up on her elbows. “For example, I’ve never eaten cheese. I must try it one day.”

Cullen gave a full belly laugh. “You’ve never... how can you go through life without eating _cheese_?”

“Said the man who refuses to eat mushrooms.”

“Well that’s different,” Cullen said, grinning. “That's a matter of principle. Mushrooms. What are they really? A fungus? How is that food?”

“Yes, it’s much different from putting milk in a cave to get moldy and hard and then eating that.” Vira laughed.

After a moment, Vira put her chin in her hand. “What about... you know... other things?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Er, what do you mean, exactly?” Cullen frowned, suddenly nervous.

“You know.” Vira traced a finger down Cullen’s chest. “If you knew we were going to die tomorrow, what would you hope to do in the meantime?”

“Oh, no. No no noooooo.” Cullen said, shaking his head. “I am not talking about that with _you_.”

“Why not?” Vira laughed.

“Because I... respect you too much to talk about such things.” Cullen seemed unable to meet her eye. His face had bloomed scarlet.

“Commander, are you... embarrassed?” Vira tried her best to stop laughing and failed. “I’m naked, in your bed, and you can’t tell me about your fantasies?”

Cullen rubbed his face. “Aaaaugh, no, it’s too... I wouldn’t want you to think less of me.”

“What, does it involve nugs or something? You’re right, I wouldn’t want to hear if it involved nugs. Their little paws are disgusting.” Vira said in mock seriousness.

Despite himself, Cullen laughed. “It’s not nugs.”

Vira looked at him, a smile on her face. “I promise I won’t think any less of you, Cullen. I just can’t imagine what is so horrifically dirty that you can’t tell me. I did spend a lot of time in Ansburg, you know.”

Cullen looked at her, then glanced away.

“Please?” Vira pleaded, batting her eyelashes.

Cullen sighed. He looked steadily at the far wall of the tent, not meeting her eyes. “Fine. You... you know how you and Bull....?” Cullen said delicately.

“Yes...” Vira wasn’t sure where this was going. Was Cullen jealous after all?

“Well, I.... I’ve thought about that. Er, rather a lot. And, well, if... if you ever, you know... wanted to do that again... I would like... to watch.” The last few words were in a strangled whisper.

“Excuse me?” Vira said in amazement. “Did you just say you wanted to _watch_?”

Cullen shoved a pillow over his face in embarrassment, but Vira was pretty sure she heard him say “yes”.

Vira couldn’t help it. Laughter welled up in her.

“Great, now you’re laughing at me,” Cullen said.

“No, no that’s just so...” Vira stopped herself before she said the word ‘pedestrian’. “The way you were talking I thought it was something much worse.”

“Oh, fine, I see, my silly little fantasies are boring now, are they?” Cullen said. Vira couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

“No, it’s not that at all!” Vira protested. “It’s... actually, that would be rather exciting,” she admitted.

“Really?” Cullen said, aghast. “Are you serious? You don’t think I’m awful?”

Vira chuckled. “Of course not, Cullen. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

“What about you?” Cullen rolled to one side and propped his head up with his hand. “Purely academically speaking, of course.”

“Hmmmm,” Vira said. “I’ve never been with a woman before. And Morrigan is quite fetching, don’t you think?”

“Morrigan?!? Sweet Maker, that woman scares the life out of me,” Cullen admitted.

“But those eyes,” Vira said breathlessly. “Golden. And the way she looks at you, like she wants to eat you alive.” Vira shivered.

“She doesn’t look at me like that,” Cullen said. “She looks at me the way you look at a puppy covered in mud.”

Vira gave him a questioning look.

“Pity mixed with disgust,” Cullen explained. “But I interrupted. Was there more?” He ran a finger down her arm.

“Well, the clothes don’t leave much to the imagination. Her skin is like porcelain. And those lips... how does she get them so dark? It’s like they’re always wine-stained.” Vira said wistfully.

“Mmmmm, that is true.” Cullen conceded the point. His fingers worked their way upward, to outline the tips of Vira’s ears.

“And her voice,” Vira breathed. “It’s like a snarl wrapped in silk.”

“Is it?” Cullen said, leaning over to whisper the words into her neck. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Vira shivered at the sensation of Cullen’s breath on her skin. She decided she liked this game.

“It is. I imagine what she would sound like....” Vira breathed. Cullen now ran his fingers lightly over Vira’s lips. She nipped at him and he groaned.

“Sound like?” Cullen prompted.

“If I were to... were to...” Vira gasped as Cullen suddenly wove his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back to ravish her neck with kisses.

“Were to what?” Cullen said, pulling away, his lips maddeningly close to her skin. He breathed into her ear.

“If I were to, for example, kiss those lips,” Vira offered.

Cullen planted teasing, soft kisses on Vira’s mouth. She moaned.

“What else?” the Commander asked.

“Perhaps, I might... bite her neck. Just... just a bit.”

“Like this?” Cullen’s teeth nipped her earlobes and the sensitive skin beneath her jawline.

Vira squirmed. “Yes... and perhaps... I would see what her skin tasted like.”

“Where?” Cullen asked, running his lips lower, to Vira’s collarbone, then her breasts.

“There,” she groaned, as Cullen took her nipple into his mouth. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Like that.”

“Is that all? Just taste?”

“Maybe I would like to... feel her,” Vira admitted.

Cullen caressed her other breast, running his fingers just barely over her skin. Vira gasped at the delicacy of the gesture.

“Where?”

“A bit lower, perhaps,” Vira said.

Cullen’s fingers danced lower, brushing the hair between Vira’s legs.

“Lower,” she moaned.

Cullen obliged. One finger traced along her folds. She moved her hips against him.

“Pinch,” Vira said.

Cullen’s fingers found her swollen flesh and pinched gently. Vira shuddered and bit her lip. “Again.”

The Commander pinched again. And again. And again.

Vira whimpered. “Yes. Inside, please.”

Cullen dipped two fingers into her gently.

Vira hissed with pleasure. “Harder,” she said.

“Mmmm,” Cullen said into her ear. “Like this?”

“Oh yes,” Vira nodded. “And I would... taste her....”

“I see. Like this?” Cullen licked down her stomach, then further. His tongue made the small circles he knew she enjoyed.

She gasped. Her fingers tangled into his hair, guiding his movements. Her breath came quicker. “Mmm, yes.” Vira moaned. She was so close.

“Well then,” Cullen said, pulling away suddenly. “That’s good to know.” He cleared his throat and lay back on the bed.

Vira’s eyes flew open. “What?”

“Thank you for sharing,” Cullen said, putting his hands behind his head. A devilish grin played on his face.

“Cullen!” Vira said frantically.

“Yes?” he asked, the picture of innocence. His body, however, belied his arousal.

Vira stared at him in disbelief. “You ass!” she laughed.

“Well, I never,” Cullen clucked.

Vira climbed atop the Commander. He grunted as she guided him into herself. The Inquisitor moaned, the sounds joining with those of the Commander. They moved together, the game forgotten. Vira leaned down to lay on Cullen. She interlaced her fingers with his, pinning his hands above his head. Vira rolled her hips over and over, murmuring into his ear in elvish.

It did not take long once they found their rhythm. Vira came first, biting her lip as the spasms overtook her. The sensation tipped Cullen over the edge. He grabbed her hips, pulling Vira’s lithe body on to him hard, again and again. With a growl, he came soon after.

For the second time that night, Vira stretched and rolled off of Cullen. This time, she rolled gracefully off the cot and began to put on her clothes.

“I wish you could stay,” Cullen said wistfully.

“Me too,” Vira smiled. “But these cots were not built for two. I’ll see you at breakfast.” She strapped on the remainder of her clothing.

“I love you,” Cullen said simply.

“I love you too,” Vira said.

Vira made her way back to her tent. She crept through the encampment, smiling to herself at the sounds of celebration which continued in the darkness, many of which closely resembled the sounds which had only recently emanated from Cullen’s tent. She sat on the cot and began to remove her shoes. But then there was another sound: the howl of a wolf.

The Inquisitor lifted her face to the sound. A wolf? Here? Hyenas found their home in the desert, but wolves would never live in such a wasteland. They were predators - kings, emperors - not scavengers willing to live off scraps.

Vira’s eyes narrowed. After a fraction of a second, her mind was made up. She grabbed her daggers.

At the edge of the encampment, Vira paused, waiting. The wait was not long. Another howl, a cry into the night, this one much closer.

Vira ran over the sand on light feet, cresting one dune, then another. The wan moonlight bled the color from the desert, giving the harsh landscape an otherworldly quality. Then she saw it. Within the black shadow of a stone outcropping was an even darker shadow, which gazed at her with golden eyes.

As she did with all strange wolves, Vira approached the creature with respect. Once she was close to the animal she realized with a shock that she knew this wolf, who haunted her dreams once before.

“Solas?” Vira whispered. “Are we dreaming?” she asked in elvish.

The wolf tilted its head to one side, lolling its tongue out in an approximation of laughter.

“But this seems so real....” Vira looked up to the night sky. The stars seemed impossibly close. She turned to look back at the encampment. It was gone. Adamant fortress stood intact; indeed, it looked newly-built. Solas had dreamed in an ancient ruin, and in so doing, had brought its memory back within the Fade.

The wolf stood. He took a few steps into the moonlight, sniffing the wind. With a look over his shoulder at Vira, the animal suddenly took off at full speed.

“Wait!” Vira shouted. She ran after, knowing it was hopeless. She was fast, but no match for a wolf. Vira ran faster and faster. The wolf was always in sight, but she gained no ground.

Vira gave up - she could not catch him. Without slowing, the wolf turned and began to run straight at her. In shock, Vira was unable to move out of his path.

The massive creature dove at her, knocking her to the ground. They rolled together across the sand. Vira fought to regain her balance and discovered she had too few hands and far too many feet. No, not feet. Paws.

She squirmed, trying to right herself. With all the grace of a newborn colt, which is to say none, she eventually rolled to a standing position. Except that now meant she balanced on all fours.

Also, there was a tail, which was quite confounding.

The other wolf regarded her. “You intrude on my dreams now, da’len.”

Vira understood the words, although what actually transpired was a series of quiet yelps and ear flicks.

“I heard your call. I could not resist,” she said.

“Even in my dreams of solitude, you find me,” said the wolf who was Solas. “How can I ever be free?”

Vira hung her head, chastened. Somehow, being in the form of a wolf, Vira’s concept of freedom was different: sharper, clearer, as necessary as breathing. The bittersweet longing she felt for Solas as a human now felt like a noose. She tried to apologize; it came out as a pitiful whine.

“No!” Solas barked.

“What must I do?” Vira asked, desperate to be free of the discomfort caused by her lingering feelings.

“What we must always do when the trap closes upon us, da’len.”

Vira blinked at the wolf. “We run,” she answered.

Once again, Solas took off like an arrow. Vira gave pursuit.

It was awkward at first. Having four feet took some getting used to, and on top of that there was the tail situation. But a lifetime of spending time with wolves had prepared her. Within moments, her gait was even, smooth.

The desert seemed to flow beneath Vira as she followed Solas. She delighted in the power of her muscles bunching and flexing under her skin, the feeling of the sand between her paws, the sounds of tiny creatures scattering in the presence of such a predator.

Vira was not sure how long they ran. The half-moon was high in the sky as they returned to the the fortress.

Vira sat on her haunches, panting. The run had been like nothing she had experienced. Side by side with Solas, they had ranged the desert night and mastered it.

Solas sat beside her. “Dawn approaches. We can run no longer, da’len.”

Vira sniffed the air. The faint scent of dew was carried on the wind. She had forgotten that she was not a wolf, that it was all a dream.

Suddenly something changed. She smelled Solas’ human scent with a strength and clarity only possible in canine form. He had changed back to his normal self. The last time Vira had experienced that scent was in Crestwood, the last time they had.... She could not bear to even think of it. Once again, the feeling of longing and desire was sharp as a knife. Vira howled in pain.

But it was not a howl, it was a cry. And she was not sitting on the dunes overlooking the camp - she was in her tent, laying in her cot, her eyes wet with tears that refused to spill.  



	18. Victory's Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira's second trip through the Fade leaves her with crippling nightmares.

The following morning, the ebullient mood had dimmed as the full cost of their victory was laid bare. Bodies were burned, eulogies spoken, tears shed. Vira and her companions prepared to make the long journey back to Skyhold.

Vira was tying her pack to her mount when Cullen found her. “Everything ready?”

She nodded. “I wish you could come with us. I’d feel safer.”

Cullen snorted. “Safer? You’re the deadliest thing on two legs this side of Thedas. And I must stay and organize things here. These new Wardens ‘recruits’ are still vulnerable to corruption by Venatori. We’ll be leaving tomorrow, so you’ll only have a day’s start on us.”

“Don’t patronize me, Commander. I know full well that we move much faster than a regiment. We’ll be at Skyhold a week before you get there.” Vira sighed.

Dorian chuckled as he walked past them to prepare his horse. “Well that’ll be a change. Usually it’s the Commander peering hopefully over the ramparts, eager for your return,” the mage grinned.

“Does he really?” Vira laughed.

“Oh, he’s as wiggly as a new pup when he sees you ride up the mountain pass.” Dorian smiled blandly at the now-glowering Commander.

“Thank you Dorian, that will be quite enough.” Cullen said.

“He’s quite handsome when he gets all wiggly, you know,” Dorian noted in a stage whisper.

Cullen rolled his eyes.

“I think he’s handsome all the time.” Vira appraised Cullen’s looks with her chin in her hand.

“You’re not the only one,” Dorian said as he sauntered away.

“Why did you agree to let him stay?” Cullen asked, not for the first time.

“It’s the moustache.” Vira explained.

No amount of small talk could put off the fact that it was time to leave. Cassandra and Sera had already ridden a half a mile out from the fortress.

Vira drew in close to Cullen. “Be safe, Commander,” she murmured. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

“I love you too,” he whispered.

With fluid grace, Vira sprang lightly to the hart’s back, her body seeming to flow into the saddle. With a final wave, she set off to the east.

The ride back to Skyhold was uneventful. Upon her return, Vira spent many hours closeted with Leliana and Josephine. Although the immediate threat of the demon army had been quelled, Corypheus himself still lived. The Inquisition was no closer to finding him or Calpernia. Vira spent hours sifting through the bits and pieces of information provided by their spies and political contacts. Morrigan also met several times with the Inquisitor, to offer advice and expertise on what magic Corypheus might employ on his quest to breach the Fade once more.

The thought of what would happen once they finally found Corypheus was utterly terrifying to Vira. She still had nightmares from their first meeting. How many times had she dreamed of the huge, misshapen form striding towards her from within a plume of dragon smoke, red lyrium crystals piercing through the ancient flesh stretched too tight over bone?

Each mission, Vira expected to see that face leering at her. Each time it did not happen, the fear grew, bolstered by the nightmares.

Since Adamant, the nightmare had taken on new dimension. Now, it took place not in Haven, but in the Fade itself, in the lair of the demon from which she had recently escaped. Only there was no helpful spirit to guide her, nor any companions to come to her aid.

Everywhere she looked, the twisted shadow of Corypheus followed, mocking her, laughing at her fear. She tried to open a rift, but the anchor on her hand no longer glowed green. Instead, an inky black crack split her palm, within which the red glow of corrupted lyrium began to take hold. As she watched, the corruption grew to her hand, her wrist, her arm.

She heard someone calling her name. Vira tried to call out, but her throat was choked with red lyrium. She was suffocating, dying, unable to save her friends.

With a strangled gasp, Vira sat up in her bed. She jumped as she realized there was someone with her. It was Cullen, his hand on her shoulder.

With a sob of relief, she embraced him, trembling violently.

“Shhh, shhh, I’m here,” Cullen whispered, cradling her to him. “It’s okay. You’re okay, Vira.”

It took some minutes before Vira trusted herself to speak. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice a hoarse croak.

“Two hours past midnight.”

“My throat hurts.”

Cullen fetched her a cup of water. “You were screaming.” He stroked her hair as she gulped the water down.

“Was I?” Vira said, confused. “I was trying to yell, but the red lyrium... I was choking. I was....”

“Shhh,” Cullen said again, taking the cup away. “It’s over.”

Tears began to well up in Vira’s eyes. “How can you stand it, Cullen? The nightmares?”

He flashed a half-smile at her. “Up until now I would’ve told you something that sounded very strong and brave. But the truth is, my lyrium nightmares are pleasant daydreams compared to what you seem to be dealing with. It’s because of what happened at Adamant, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Probably,” Vira sighed, wiping her face with her sleeve. She laid back down. “What are you doing here, anyway? When did you get back?”

“I returned late. You had already gone to bed. I thought I might surprise you,” he said, caressing her cheek.

“But you never visit my quarters at night.”

“After Adamant, my priorities may have... shifted somewhat.” Cullen kissed her forehead gently. “I don’t care who knows that I love you or what they say behind our backs.”

Vira smiled and took his hand. “I love you so much, but what’s even more important...” she paused to kiss him tenderly before continuing, “-is that this bed is so much more comfortable.”

Cullen laughed. “And you don’t have holes in the ceiling. Although apparently you can scream bloody murder without anyone hearing you.” Cullen frowned. “We might need to do something about that. Perhaps we should post guards, or -”

“Cullen, hush.” Vira laid a finger on his lips. “Get in bed now.”

“With pleasure, Inquisitor.”

It was perhaps an hour later. “I needed that.” Vira stretched luxuriantly.

“You’re definitely right about the bed,” Cullen laughed. “This is very nice.”

They lay quietly for a few moments. “Will you do something for me?” Cullen asked.

“Anything,” Vira said. “You know that.”

“I want you to talk to Solas about your nightmares.”

“ _What_?!? Are you joking?” Vira looked at the Commander. He didn’t look like he was joking.

“Maybe he can help you,” Cullen said.

Vira shook her head. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.” She sat up, facing away from him.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Cullen rubbed her back.

“Solas and I have... shared dreams.” Vira felt Cullen’s hand pause on her back, then pull away.

He sat up. “I don’t understand.”

“He and I... have had the same dreams. In the Fade.”

Cullen blinked. “But, that’s... a good thing, right? A sign that he should be able to help?”

Vira looked away. “It wasn’t just that we shared dreams, Cullen. He saw my memories. Something I did not intend to share. Something... intimate.”

“What, like your first time or something?” His voice was light-hearted.

Vira turned to him, her face stricken.

“Oh sweet Maker,” Cullen whispered. “I was making a bad joke.”

Vira raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, but did not respond.

“Vira, I am so, so sorry. No wonder you’re upset. And here I am trying to make you laugh.” He rubbed his forehead.

“It’s okay, Cullen. You didn’t know.” Vira sighed. “He saw... he saw me....”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Cullen said.

“No, I want to. I want you to understand what happened.” Falteringly, she told Cullen about her childhood, the encounter with Thomas, her exile.

After Vira finished talking, Cullen cleared his throat. “And Solas saw it all?”

Vira nodded, not able to quite meet Cullen’s eyes. “I was very angry with him when I found out.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen swore softly. He flopped back down on to the bed.

“They weren’t all like that,” Vira said defensively.

“‘Weren’t _all_ like that’? How many times has this happened?”

“Three,” Vira said quietly.

“When?” Anger had crept into Cullen’s voice.

Vira flinched. “Once in Haven. Once, right after we arrived in Skyhold. And... once, after Adamant.”

“ _What?!?_ As in, just over a week ago?”

Vira bowed her head. “It wasn’t what you think, Cullen. It was an accident. We weren’t even....”

“Weren’t even what? Intimate?” Cullen accused.

“No, it’s not like that at all. We weren’t even people. We were wolves. Well, he was a wolf. He howled outside the camp and I went looking for the source. I didn’t even know I was asleep at first. And then I found him, and somehow he turned me into a wolf, and we ran in the desert.”

Vira turned to Cullen. The anger on his face was clear even in the dim light. Vira felt as though she might be sick.

Cullen’s jaw worked. “Wolves,” he said finally, his voice cold. “Running in the desert.”

“Yes,” Vira said. “It was the only night since coming out of the Fade that I haven’t had the nightmare.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Honestly, the whole thing is so insane that... I admit, I was going to keep it to myself. I mean, what was I going to say? ‘Hey, remember that night after you fought a demon army and I walked out of the Fade again? Well after you and I finished making love, twice, my ex-lover and I dreamed we were wolves.’ You have to admit it sounds a bit odd.”

Cullen exhaled and shook his head, not looking at her. Vira put a hand on his arm. Eventually he met her eyes. “Well, when you put it like that,” he said, the faintest glimmer of a grin playing around the corner of his mouth.

Vira began to laugh. “You see what I mean?”

Cullen pulled her back down to the bed. “I suppose I do,” he chuckled.

They lay quietly for a moment. “Do you still want me to talk to Solas, knowing all that?” Vira asked.

Cullen chewed his lip. “Yes,” he said finally. “I’ll admit, I’m uncomfortable that you and he have shared such an intimate experience, in a way that you and I cannot. But if he can help, I can deal with my discomfort.”

Vira hugged him close. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” she breathed.

“Well you saved the world a few times. That’s a good start.”

Vira laughed. “I did, didn’t I?”

“One thing though,” Cullen said. “If you do have more dreams with Solas, please try not to reminisce too closely about you and me. There are some things I’d like to keep private.”

“I would never,” Vira promised. “It would shake Solas’ confidence terribly to see us together. He might never recover, poor dear. Though he might learn a thing or two.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Cullen said, leaning in for a kiss.

The next day, Vira walked into the Great Hall just before sunset, feeling as though she had swallowed a nest of snakes. At the entrance to the rotunda, she paused. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

Solas was waiting for her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Well then, let us retire.”

It had taken some convincing to get Solas to even consider the idea of helping Vira with her nightmares. He relented, with extreme reluctance, only when Cullen approached him privately.  

Vira was nervous. Despite the strength of her love for Cullen, Vira had to admit that she still felt a powerful pull towards this mysterious elf. Her solution until now had been to put as much distance between herself and Solas as possible, especially since Adamant. Sleeping together was obviously antithetical to this strategy.

Vira sat on the edge of the bed. “What should I do?”

“You should lay down, Lethallan.” The words were laced with Solas’ characteristic mockery. “Unless you prefer to sleep sitting up?”

Vira lay on top of her covers. “How will this work, exactly?”

“I am not certain. This is a new experience for me, to purposefully share in a nightmare.” He climbed on the bed.

“What are you doing?” Vira shied away from him.

“Vir’athawen, please, try to relax.” He lay next to her. “Nightmares are not the same as simple dreams. The Fade will be even more chaotic and I may have difficulty finding you. It will be much easier if we are in close proximity. Face me, and give me your hands.”

Vira did as he asked. Solas rolled to his side to face her and clasped her hands firmly. “Now. You will fall asleep presently. I should appear directly beside you. If the nightmare becomes too intense, I will wake us both.”

Nodding, Vira took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes.

Solas watched as Vira fell asleep. As her eyes closed, he relaxed. The sadness and longing he had been hiding from his expression was laid bare. After a moment, he sighed, and then he too closed his eyes.

It was most of an hour later when Solas found Commander Cullen on the battlements, staring out over the mountains. “It was brave, to ask Vir’athawen to seek my help. I realize that the thought of me sharing this experience with the Inquisitor is probably not pleasant for you.”

“How is she? Were you able to help?”

“Not significantly,” Solas said. “I will need to dream with her again, perhaps several times. I am not certain that I can provide her with relief if our dreams are not shared. The nightmare was quite intense. I was forced to wake us both.”

Cullen exhaled. “I see.”

“There is... one other option,” Solas said. “Vir’athawen asked me not to tell you, but I feel I must.”

“What option?”

“Her nightmares are strengthened by her anchor; it ties her to the Fade. That is bad enough, but what happened at Adamant made things exponentially worse. Twice now, she has physically walked the Fade. Each time she travels there, the anchor grows stronger.”

“And...?” Cullen frowned.

“The anchor is permanent. All her nightmares will now be worse, and all her dreams more intense. I fear to think what would happen should she walk the Fade a third time. However, the effect can be muted somewhat. For example, by focusing a dispel effect on her hand while she dreams. This would lessen the nightmares, although it would not completely rid her of them.” Solas said.

Cullen’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“It is possible for your Templar abilities to dispel the magic somewhat, yes.” Solas said.

“But I no longer take lyrium. If I were to start taking it now... you know the consequences. Why would you even suggest it?” Cullen’s face hardened into anger.

“I merely present all options, Commander. The Inquisitor is in her quarters. I believe she would be pleased to see you.” Solas said mildly.

Cullen slammed his fist on the stone wall. He glared at the elf, then stormed off.

Solas stood, contemplating the moonlight on the snow-covered mountains.

Cole appeared beside him. “Cullen is angry. Vira is angry. But you are pleased with their anger.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m pleased, Cole. But it is necessary.”

Cole blinked. “Anger leads to hatred. Why won’t she hate me? I push and push and push and yet the tie remains unbroken. Will I ever be free?”

Solas sighed, but said nothing.

Inside, Cullen took a deep breath, assembling his features into a state of calm before knocking on  the door to Vira’s chamber. “Vira? Are you awake?”

Vira was staring into the fire. She looked over her shoulder at the Commander.

Cullen could see she’d been crying. He knelt before her chair. “Are you all right?”

“Not really,” she shook her head.

“It didn’t help.” Cullen stroked her hair.

“No. Will you... stay with me tonight?”

“Of course,” he said. “And if Solas can’t help, we can try the other option.”

“No!” she shouted, pushing him away. “How did you even know about that? Did he tell you?”

Cullen nodded. “Solas came to find me. I hope it won’t come to that, but if it helps you....”

“Absolutely out of the question. I won’t let you put yourself at risk because I get bad dreams.”

“Vira... they’re not just bad dreams.” Cullen sighed.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

Cullen took her hand, turning it palm up. “When I came to see you last night, you had opened a very small fade rift in your sleep. Here, in your quarters. That’s why I was shaking you so hard. You closed it before you woke up.”

“What?” she gasped. “How is that possible?” She stared at her hand.

“I don’t know. Maybe you were trying to get out. That’s why I suggested you go to Solas.” He stroked her cheek.

“Did you tell him? About the rift?”

“I did.”

Vira exhaled. “Fenedhis,” she swore.

“I’ll stay with you tonight. Maybe none of this will come to pass. Maybe Solas can help. We don’t have to decide tonight.”

Vira shook her head. “After all you’ve gone through, all you’ve suffered, how can you even consider it? Taking Lyrium now might wipe out your mind completely, or kill you.”

He kissed the tips of her fingers. “For you, I would walk through hell and back.”

“I’ve done that,” Vira reminded him. “I don’t recommend it.”

Later that night, Vira lay in her bed, unwilling to allow herself to sleep. Cullen slept beside her, his handsome face relaxed in the cool moonlight. She thought back to the first night after Adamant, before her own nightmares had taken such a violent turn. When she and Solas ran through the desert....

Vira sat straight up in her bed. “Of course. Of COURSE!” she shouted, hurling back the covers.

“Whuzzat?” Cullen snorted.

“ _Wolves_ , Cullen. Wolves don’t have nightmares!” She was throwing on a robe over her night dress. “I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.” Vira ran out the door.

Cullen mumbled something incoherent and fell back to sleep.


	19. Dreams of the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira and Solas share a dream of wolves, but then things get out of control.

Vira trotted through the darkened corridors of Skyhold. After a cursory knock, she barged into Solas’ chamber and immediately regretted her actions.

Solas lay naked on a simple cot, his hands clasped on his stomach, the coverlet folded across his torso the only nod towards modesty. The moonlight bathed his lithe muscles in a silvery glow. Vira tiptoed up to him, hardly daring to breathe. His face was somber, relaxed, yet somehow powerful and confident, his lips parted slightly as if he might speak. Vira could feel the heat radiating from his skin in the cool room.

“Shit,” Vira swore quietly. She’d been so excited about her idea that it hadn’t occurred to her to wait until morning. Still, the thought of turning and leaving seemed impossible now. Vira knelt by the cot. “Solas,” she whispered in elvish. “Solas, wake up.”

His eyes fluttered beneath their lids but he did not wake. She tried again, slightly louder. “Wake up, Solas. It’s me, Vir’athawen. I need you.”

“Ma vhenan,” he breathed.

Vira closed her eyes in pain as those words unleashed a flood of emotion and memory. She took a calming breath. Vira had intended to lay her hand on Solas’ shoulder, but somehow caressed his cheek instead, the anchor glinting in the moonlight.

Solas moaned slightly and leaned into her touch. Slowly, his eyes opened. For a moment, or perhaps it was a lifetime, joy washed over his features as he awoke and saw Vir’athawen leaning over him.

Then, realization set in. His expression hardened into a frown. Vira felt like she had been stabbed, a cold blade twisting in her belly.

“What are you doing here?” Solas’ voice was cold.

“I... I’m sorry, Solas. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t think. I’m just so tired.” Vira felt her eyes begin to water and turned away.

Solas grabbed her arm gently. “No,” he said, his voice calmer. “Stay. Please.”

The jumble of emotion and the strain of fatigue were too much. It was too late to stop the tears which began to tumble down Vira’s cheeks.

“Why have you come here, Vir’athawen?” Solas voice was now soft.

“I... was thinking... about the last time we dreamed. In Adamant.”

“When you stole into my dreams like a thief in the night?” Solas said with a gentle smile. He stroked her hair, as one would a small child.

Vira nodded. “I didn’t have the nightmare that night. And once, you told me, you could show me how to be a wolf, in my dreams. But then you... we....” She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, unable to put words to her heartbreak. She gulped air and continued. “I thought, if you could teach me to become a wolf, on my own....”

Solas considered it. After a moment, he laughed. “Such a simple solution. And yet it may be just the key. How is it that you can find the course of sanity and wisdom amidst all this madness, Vir’athawen? Truly, you dance on the tip of the knife,” He looked at her in admiration.

Vira clumsily wiped the tears which continued to flow.

Solas propped himself up on his elbows. “I can teach you the trick of becoming a wolf in dreams. Yes, I believe this will solve the problem quite well.” His eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement.

Vira was suddenly acutely aware of his nudity, the thin blanket providing the minimum coverage required to maintain any sense of decorum. “I... I’m not sure I can sleep now,” Vira managed to squeak, screwing her eyes shut tightly.

“Nonsense,” Solas said. “You are exhausted. How many days has it been since you’ve slept undisturbed?”

“Eleven,” Vira whispered.

Solas lay back down on his side, holding his arm out to her. “It will not take long. I will dream of Skyhold, in the days when it was first built, a bastion by which the elves held up the sky itself. Together we will run through the Frostback Mountains, where the ancient constellations were so close, you could call the stars by name.”

His words conjured such longing, such wonder and loss, and Vira was so, so tired.... Solas patted the mattress. “Rest your head, da’len.”

“I’ll try,” Vira said. She folded her arms on the cot, then laid her head down on them.

Instantly, her knees and back began to ache. She lifted her head. “No. We can try tomorrow. I can’t sleep like this,” Vira said, pushing herself up.

“Then lay with me,” Solas said, making space for her. “There is room enough.”

Vira sighed in frustration. The part of her that was screaming in warning was drowned out by the exhaustion. She clambered into the tiny cot, being careful not to disturb the blanket. “You know, you can always request a larger bed,” she said, attempting to make herself comfortable on her side. “We do have resources.”

“I prefer to sleep alone, da’len. I make an exception only for you.”

Vira curled up next to him, her back to his chest. He laid a hand on her arm. Solas’ voice whispered in her ear. “Now, please try to relax. I must fall asleep first for this to work, otherwise we will be caught in your nightmare.”

Vira wiped the last of her tears away. Though the room was cold, the heat coming from Solas was more than enough to keep her warm. She was keenly aware of the scant inches between his body and hers, the empty space an exquisite torment.

She lay there for several minutes, Solas’ breath even and steady on the back of her neck. This did nothing to help her fall asleep. After another moment she prepared to sit up, to tell Solas she could not possibly sleep. When she turned to face him, he was gone. She was alone in the bed.

The sound of rustling cloth from the doorway startled her, and she whirled around. Solas leaned in the doorway. He was wearing his normal robes, smiling at Vira’s surprise.

“I was sure I was still awake,” Vira said, patting the empty space on the bed in confusion.

Solas’ grin widened. Vira realized Solas was showing off, and what’s more, he was enjoying it immensely. She so rarely saw him in this light that she found herself smiling.

The elf held his hand out to her. “Come, da’len. Let us find your wolf.”

Vira walked through Skyhold, the power of Solas’ dream having restored the buildings to their original condition. Skyhold was in fact a human fortress, built over the ruins of a much older elven structure. The keep Vira had come to know and love was built of huge blocks of granite, the arched hallways and chambers lit by torches and firelight. It was a place of strength, security.

The dream she walked through now was ethereal, the delicate marble filigree held up by soaring columns; windows and skylights allowed the moon and stars to light the way, alongside braziers of swirling blue veilfire.

Wonder surmounted wonder as Solas and Vira traveled through their dream. Vira felt as though her heart might burst. She had explored dozens of ruins, seen the ghosts of tombs and temples that survived an eon. Nothing she had seen had prepared her for the true glory of elven architecture at its peak.

Vira gaze roved over the glowing marble. Solas, meanwhile, was drinking in the sight of Vira’s face, her eyes reflecting the wonder of the experience to him anew.

“You see this every time you sleep?” Vira asked.

“Every time I sleep in Skyhold, yes.”

“How do you ever wake up?”

Solas laughed, the sound echoing throughout the great hall. Vira had almost never heard him laugh so genuinely, no trace of bitterness or cynicism. “If Corypheus is victorious, this may disappear. And... there are other motivations to be in the waking world.”

Vira looked up at the stars through the lacy stonework. Without thinking, she recited:

> _When waked, we walked where willows wail,_
> 
> _whose withered windings want wassail._
> 
> _We weary-worn with wited wale,_
> 
> _were wavering with wanion ward._
> 
> _When wishing waned, we wighters warred._
> 
> _When wolfen wan, we wastrels warred._

For an instant, the veilfire surged slightly.

“Where did you hear that?” Solas asked.

“Sera, of all people,” Vira laughed. “They sing it in Denerim.”

“If she knew it was an elven poem, she might be less keen to repeat it.”

Vira looked up at him. “It’s elvish? I didn’t know that. Can you speak it for me?”

Solas turned to her, a sad smile on his face. His blue eyes held Vira’s as his gentle voice curved around the words:

> _Tel'enara bellana bana'vhenadahl,_
> 
> _Sethen'a ir san'shiral, mala tel'halani_
> 
> _Ir sa'vir te'suledin var bana'vallaslin,_
> 
> _Vora'nadas san banal'him emma abel revas._
> 
> _Ir tela'ena glandival, vir amin tel'hanin._
> 
> _Ir tela las ir Fen halam, vir am'tela'elvahen._

This time there was no mistaking it - the veilfire surged a dozen feet into the air, twisting and writhing, prompted by the sound of Solas’ voice.

Vira’s breath caught in her throat to hear the sadness, the regret which lived in the elvish phrases. “Solas...” she whispered. “I...” Vira faltered, uncertain of what it was she wanted to say. “Thank you for showing me this,” she said finally. “I’ll never forget it.”

Solas smiled. “It is my gift to share, Vir’athawen, and none are more deserving than you. Come,” he said. “Your wolf awaits.” Once again, he held out his hand.

Vira took it, and blinked. They now stood outside the main gates, facing the Frostback Mountains.

“They look different,” Vira said, tilting her head to the side in confusion. The slopes had been barren, covered in thick snow and ice; forests now nestled between the sharp peaks.

“The mountains are young,” Solas replied. “The world has not yet grown so cold. Now. Your wolf. Watch me first.”

Solas squatted into a sitting position. Within this fluid motion, his body took on the form of a wolf. He sat on his haunches for a moment, then reared to his hind legs, changing back to himself.

Vira gasped. “I can’t do that!” she protested.

“Ah, but you can, da’len. It is easy as breathing. You know wolves better than anyone. You remember how it felt at Adamant?”

“I remember...” Vira squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the memory.

“Easy,” Solas cautioned. “You try too hard. Remember the desert, the smells and sounds, the feel of the sand under your paws. Now, lean forward and stand on four feet.”

Vira held the memories in her head. She crouched down, putting her hands on the snow. It felt... odd.

She opened her eyes. The snow felt strange because she was touching it through the footpads of her front paws. Vira howled in delight.

Solas’ wolf sat next to her, his mouth open in the canine version of a smile. “Now, stand up,” he instructed.

Vira attempted to rear up to her hind legs. The tail confounded her, and she tumbled backwards on to the snow.

Solas yipped with laughter. Vira growled at him as she scrambled to her feet.

“Try again,” Solas said.

It took two more tries, but Vira returned to her natural form. She and Solas practiced the change several more times, until it came easily to her. They sat on their haunches in wolf-form, looking over the mountains.

“Solas?”

“Yes, da’len?”

“Catch me if you can!” Vira was already gone, the snow crunching under her feet.

Solas let her gain a substantial lead before setting off. He soon caught up to her as she dashed among the trees. Though he was quicker, Vira proved to be more agile, darting among the trunks of the pines. Solas nipped playfully at her tail. It threw Vira off balance and she rolled through a snow drift.

Solas pounced on Vira as she struggled to rise, his jaws pulling gently at the thick scruff of fur in the manner of dogs and wolves. They wrestled, tumbling through the snowy underbrush. Their play was joyous, uncomplicated.

It was Vira’s turn to pounce, leaping at Solas. Only this time, as they rolled, something changed. As they came to rest on the snow, they were themselves once again, their limbs entangled, Solas on top of Vira. Their mouths were already on each other’s necks, nuzzling and nipping at the sensitive flesh. Vira’s legs were wrapped around him. She could feel Solas’ arousal through his clothes and her hips began moving against him, almost of their own accord.

Solas groaned but did not pull away. His hands found her thighs, bare under her nightdress. He gripped the supple skin with enough force to bruise, had they not been dreaming. The sensation electrified Vira, who let out a low moan in response.

“Solas,” she gasped. “I don’t know if I can stop.” With the sense of inevitability found in dreams, her hips continued their motion, only a thin bit of fabric preventing the penetration they both so desperately wanted.

“We must, vhenan. We -” he groaned again, louder, almost a growl, as she ran her fingers down his back, clawing at him through his tunic. Her other hand was tearing at the waistband of his pants.

“Please. Please.” Vira moaned rhythmically.

This time there was no question that Solas growled deep in his throat, the sound coming from between gritted teeth. He roughly flipped Vira over to all fours, yanking down his pants. He sank himself into her in one hard thrust, making her cry out in shock even as she drank in the sensation. The self-imposed limits Solas had in the real world were gone. Here, in the Fade, his power was unbridled. It rippled out from them like a sheen of heat.

“Is this what you want, Vir’athawen?” he hissed, pulling her hair in his fist. He yanked her up to a kneeling position, even as he remained lodged deep inside her. His teeth grazed her ear while his other hand reached around to her breast. He pinched her hard through the fabric of her nightdress.

She whimpered a broken “Yes”.

He snarled. “Is this what you want?” he asked again, punctuating his question with a thrust into her. He sank his teeth into the nape of her neck.

“Yes, Solas,” Vira moaned. “I want it. I want it.”

“Then take it,” he said, letting go of her hair and shoving her roughly back to all fours. His hands gripped her hips as he slammed into her. “Take it.”

Vira bucked against him, meeting each thrust with a whispered “Yes.” She reached up to touch herself, her fingers digging into the slick skin. The whispers became moans.

Solas was grunting like an animal, rutting now so quickly that it was all Vira could do to hold herself still and accept him. She felt the deep throbs begin inside her and she whimpered.

Solas pulled out, flipping Vira over to her back and disrupting her orgasm. He raised her legs, resting them on his shoulders to take her once more. He tore her nightdress open to expose her breasts, which jolted in time to each thrust.

The interruption only heightened Vira’s pleasure, which was reaching levels she had rarely experienced. She stared up at Solas’ face, wracked with lust, his eyes half closed, his lips snarled over gritted teeth. He ran a thumb over her lips and she sucked at it eagerly, wanting more of him. With a groan, he ripped his hand away. He leaned back and grabbed her calves, returning to the slower, harder thrusts.

Vira’s delayed pleasure was beginning to overwhelm her. “Solas, please,” she begged. “Please.” He reached down to touch her swollen flesh. The pressure of a single finger was enough to send her over the edge.

Her mouth and eyes flew open, her brow furrowed in pleasure, as the orgasm took her, first soundlessly, then accompanied by a long, shuddering wail as the spasms gripped from within. Solas’ own grunts coalesced into a shout as he shot into her.

With a gasp, they both awoke. They lay in the same position as they had fallen asleep; their bodies did not touch, save where Solas’ hand rested on her arm. Yet there could be no question of what had happened. Vira’s body continued to twitch.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

For a moment, she refused to move, hoping somehow that it would all go away.

“Do you see why I was so reluctant to help, da’len?” Solas whispered. “Dreams can be dangerous.”

Vira sat up, leaning forward to put her head in her hands. “What have I done?” she whispered. She turned to Solas.

He winced to see the self-hatred in her eyes. “Ir abelas, da’len. This was my fault. I should have had more control.”

“No,” she shook her head, her eyes focused somewhere far away. “No, it was _my_ idea. I came here. I... _I_ did this.” The full force of what happened began to hit Vira. “I betrayed Cullen,” she said, looking at Solas in horror. “I....”

“Vir’athawen, it was a dream,” Solas reminded her. “We have not even touched each other.”

“That doesn’t matter. How... how could I....” For the second time, her tears began to flow. This time, however, she regained control. “No,” she stated flatly. “This never happened.”

Vira rose and made her way to the door. At the threshold, she paused, then spoke with her back to him. “Solas, thank you for showing me how to find my wolf. I fear you’ll hate what I’m about to do, but I hope you... understand, at least. I’m sorry.” Without waiting for a response, she walked out of the room.

 


	20. Interlude II - The Eluvian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan brings Inquisitor Lavellan to the Crossroads.

The following day, Morrigan announced at the War Table that she had discovered a possible breakthrough, in the form of an Eluvian within Skyhold. The witch had taken Vira to the chamber housing the large mirror, clouded with an iridescent sheen. With a gesture, Morrigan activated the device, and they stepped into the Crossroads.

Vira gazed in wonder at the Eluvians. Most were dark - broken, locked, or otherwise unusable. The ancient elves had erected huge statues made of metal in the form of trees, adding to the otherworldly quality to the misty courtyard. “It’s so peaceful here. And you say that some of these go to places not of our world?” Vira asked. She touched the frame of one of the inactive mirrors.

“Yes,” Morrigan said, coming to stand behind her. Vira could smell the witch’s rose and sandalwood perfume. “I’m surprised you have such an interest in these matters, Inquisitor. I had not thought you to be a mystic.”

“Because I spend so much time killing people, you mean,” Vira said bitterly. Her fingers traced the intricate carvings.

“I apologize, Inquisitor. I did not mean to give offense.” Morrigan bowed her head in apology.

Vira smiled. “Well, I do spend rather a lot of my time with dagger in hand. But it wasn’t always so. When I was young, and still hopeful to become part of my clan, I wanted to train for the Vir Atish’an.”

Morrigan blinked in surprise. “The Way of Peace? Truly?”

“Yes. I wanted to become a craftsman, to carve ironbark. I wanted to make carvings that would rival our skills in ancient times. Once, the Keeper allowed me to sit in her tent while I practiced. I was very young. She told me stories of the ancient gods, and how we used to live before Tevinter conquest. I could feel the tales weaving through me, through my small knife, into the wood.” Vira took a deep breath, willing the threatening tears to recede.

“Why did you step from that path?” Morrigan asked gently.

Vira’s laugh was bitter. “No family. No one to sponsor my training. I was wild, running the Green Dales with the wolves. I became angry, at my clan for spurning me, at Fen’Harel for saving my pathetic life. I turned my knives from tools into weapons.”

She looked over at Morrigan, expecting to see the cynical expression the witch habitually wore. Vira instead saw tears standing in Morrigan’s golden eyes, her perfect lips parted in shock.

“We... have much in common, it seems, Inquisitor,” Morrigan said finally.

“I do have a name, you know.”

Morrigan tilted her head. “Vir’athawen, then.”

Vira laughed. “You and Solas are the only ones who call me that. I think you might be the only two who can pronounce it correctly.”

The witch’s twisted smile returned. “It would not surprise me.” She stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the crossroads. “I, too, was raised wild. Quite literally, by my mother, the Witch of the Wilds. We lived in the Korcari wilderness, Flemeth and I. I learned to change my shape and would often turn to the creatures in that desolate expanse for companionship. The raven, the fox, and even the wolf.”

“And what made you leave your wilderness?” Vira asked.

Morrigan’s smile held no humor. “I discovered my mother’s grimoire. She prolongs her life by taking over the bodies of her daughters.”

“That’s horrible!” Vira gasped.

“Indeed. When I found out, I fled.”

Vira shook her head as she contemplated Morrigan’s tale. She chuckled. “I guess we do have something in common.”

“Yes,” Morrigan purred. Her golden eyes bored into Vira. “And, I think we both are guilty of underestimating the other. I apologize.”

Vira found herself unable to look away from those eyes. “Quite so. I apologize as well.” They stared at each other a moment longer. Vira’s stomach began to quiver and she ripped her gaze away. “I suppose we must go. Morrigan, do you... do you think we could return here again? It’s been a long time since I’ve felt at peace.” 

“Of course, Inqui- Vir’athawen.” With a wave of her hand, the witch activated the Skyhold Eluvian, the glass shimmering liquid to allow them passage.

 


	21. The Illusion of Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor paid a steep price to rid herself of nightmares.

Varric watched as Cullen walked out of the War Room and straight into a dining chair. “Curly, you look like you saw a ghost.”

“What? Oh, no, I’m fine. Just... been a long day,” Cullen said.

“Uh-huh,” Varric said skeptically. “Where’s Vira? I thought she was meeting with you and the other advisors.”

“Oh, she’s off with Morrigan somewhere.” Cullen waved his hand vaguely and stumbled into another chair. 

Varric snorted. “Come on. You and me, we have an appointment with a tankard of ale. Or ten.”

Soon the dwarf and his despondent blond friend were ensconced in a quiet corner of the tavern. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” Varric asked.

Cullen looked into his cup. “You ever think something is a good idea, then it turns out maybe it wasn’t?”

“Curly, that’s the story of my life,” Varric laughed.

“Vira’s been having nightmares. Bad ones,” Cullen said.

Varric nodded. “I know. We all do. We could hear her yelling in her tent after Adamant.”

Cullen sighed. “I told her she should talk to Solas about it. He’s the expert on dreams.”

“Yeah? And?” Varric furrowed his eyebrows.

“Well, they had to sleep to do that. Together.” Cullen drained his tankard.

“Well, shit,” Varric said, leaning back in his chair. He waved his empty cup at the barmaid and held up two fingers.

“I mean, you don’t think they....” Varric left it hanging.

“No! I mean, well, I don’t know.” Cullen took the drink Varric handed him. “She wouldn’t, would she?”

“She wouldn’t what?” Dorian’s voice said from behind Cullen’s shoulder. He gracefully lowered himself into a free chair, crossing his legs just so.

Bull followed a moment later, straddling a bench. “What’s going on? You talking about Blackwall going missing? I got a bad feeling about that.”

Varric filled them in. “Seems Vira and Solas ‘explored the Fade’ together last night.”

“What?” Dorian was aghast. “And this was your idea? After everything they’ve done together in the Fade?”

“What do you mean?” Varric said.

“That’s where they had their first kiss,” Dorian said.

“Ugh, it’s always kissing with you,” Bull scoffed.

Cullen, meanwhile, had gone pale as the blood drained from his face.

“Oh no,” Dorian muttered. “You didn’t know that, did you?”

Cullen sank his face into his hands.

“Good thing Blackwall’s gone. At least there’s no Grey Whiskey laying around.” Bull said. “So, what, exactly, are we talking about here?”

Cullen took a deep breath. “Last evening, Solas and Vira... I don’t know, shared a dream. It was supposed to help her nightmares. But it didn’t work. So later, she and I went to sleep. Suddenly, she gets up, says something about wolves, and runs out.” He took a long pull from his tankard before continuing.

“Well, I fell back to sleep of course. For a while. Then I realize, she hasn’t come back. It’s been hours. So I... went looking for her.” This time he drained the cup completely, missing the worried looks exchanged by the others.

“I’m afraid to ask where you found her,” Varric said.

“Exactly. She was in _his_ room. In his bed. They were... sleeping.” Cullen frowned into his now-empty cup. Dorian smoothly handed him a fresh one.

“Were they naked or something? Because otherwise I’m not getting the issue, here,” Bull frowned.

“Vira had her clothes on. Solas was under a blanket,” Cullen noted. “And they weren’t exactly... touching. But the expression on their faces... Maker’s breath. And they were... panting.”

“Panting?” Dorian asked.

“And... making other sounds. And twitching, a bit.” Cullen’s shoulders drooped. “I wanted to wake them, but I just... couldn't. I went back to bed, to wait for her. She came in, perhaps an hour later, almost in a trance, and went right to sleep. No nightmares. And this morning, I was going to confront her about what I saw. But she was so happy! She said Solas had taught her how to become a wolf in her dreams. Apparently wolves don’t get nightmares. She went on and on about running through the mountains as a wolf. It all seemed so innocent. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Maybe I’m imagining things.” He sighed.

“I’m still not getting the big deal,” Bull said.

“Tiny, you can be incredibly insensitive,” Varric said.

“Hey, now, that hurts. What I’m saying is, does it matter? You saw... what? Maybe they were dreaming about the wolf thing. You ever see a dog dream? They pant and twitch. But let’s say they weren’t. So, you saw two people possibly having a wet dream? So what? Are you really saying the thought of Vira having boring, imaginary sex with that cold-blooded elf in her dreams is worth losing her over? Tell me this. How was she this morning?”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Well, she was... quite... affectionate.” 

“See? Yeeeeeah. That’s what I’m talking about.” Bull nodded. “Things are fine.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “I have to admit, this big brute does have a point. Still, you don’t think she’s lying to you, do you?”

Cullen took a deep breath. “No,” he said simply. “I think she’s telling me the truth. She didn’t seem to be hiding anything at all.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Bull offered. “I may be a big, insensitive brute, but I also have a lifetime of Ben Hassrath training. I can smell a lie a mile away. If she’s hiding something, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Bull,” Cullen said. 

In fact, Vira was hiding something. But she hid it in a place no one would ever look, including herself. She had left Solas’ quarters and headed to a quiet corner of the courtyard. Weeping, Vira had whispered a name into the night. A blond boy appeared next to her, wearing an enormous, floppy hat. They spoke for a moment, then the boy raised his hand. Vira’s tears stopped. She seemed confused. The boy directed her back to her bed, warmed by the man with the heart of a lion and the promise of a lifetime’s happiness. 

***

After dinner that night, Vira walked into the rotunda. "Solas, I'm very disappointed in you," she chided the elf.

Solas' hand slipped at the sound of her voice and he slopped paint on the wall. "Ah... Inquisitor," he floundered, dabbing at the mess.

"Morrigan showed me the Eluvian here in Skyhold. How is it that you never told me it existed? Surely, you must have known it was here. We walked through Skyhold last night. Have you never seen it in your dreams?"

Solas blinked several times. "An Eluvian? Here? Where?"

"In a chamber off the garden. Come on, I'll show you," she waved him along.

With a confused look on his face, he followed.

A few minutes later, they gazed up at the mirror. "She brought me here, showed me the crossroads. What a peaceful place. Have you ever been?" Vira asked.

"I... yes."

"Solas, what  is  the matter? Too much tea this morning?" Vira laughed.

"I thought you would be... upset about our encounter."

"Why would I be upset? You solved the problem for me. I was able to become a wolf on my own when I got back to my bed. And I got to see Skyhold in all its glory. Thank you again for that, by the way."

Solas narrowed his eyes. "Pardon me, Inquisitor, but I must..." He put his fingertips on her temples and shut his eyes, concentrating. "I see. Forgive the intrusion." 

"Ooooo-kay." Vira raised an eyebrow. "So... the Eluvian?" she prompted.

"I was unaware of its existence, Inquisitor. Though it does not surprise me. Travel to this remote fortress is difficult. I suspect this is not the original location of the mirror. The ancient elves were fond of pomp and circumstance. They would have placed the mirror some distance away to allow for a promenade to the gates."

Vira chuckled. "Sounds like the Orlesians. Can you open it?"

"Yes," Solas said reluctantly. "But I am loathe to do so. Eluvians are more than mere doors; they are thresholds of reality. Morrigan has the power and knowledge to operate the mechanism, but she is human. These portals affect the elvhen differently."

Vira smirked. "Elvhen? My, but aren’t we archaic today."

"A slip of the tongue," he said dryly. "If you have no further questions for me, Inquisitor, there is something to which I must attend."

Vira smiled. "Bee in your bonnet? That's fine. If I think of any questions, I know where to find you."

Solas bowed his head and hurried off. His appearance in the tavern elicited several surprised looks. He hopped up the stairs two at a time. In the far corner of the attic, he found Cole.

"Cole," Solas said, his voice sharp, striding towards the boy. "Did you take it away from her? Did you make her forget?" 

"Yes," the spirit said simply. "She asked for my help. I... gave it to her. Was that wrong?"

Solas crumpled, leaning heavily on the wall for support. “Of course not, Cole. Not if she asked.” He turned away from the boy.

“It’s not gone,” Cole called out. 

Solas froze, then whirled around. “What?”

“I kept it for her. She wants it back, just not now. When she is ready.” He held out his hand. A wisp of white light shone in his palm. “Ecstatic, endless, everlasting ache. Sweet poison on my lips, in my heart, pain upon pain, pleasure upon pleasure -”

“That’s enough, Cole,” Solas snapped. “I am fully aware of what you hold in your hand. How will she know to get it from you, if she cannot remember?”

Cole blinked. “She wrote herself a note.”

Solas’ frown faded. “Again she shames me, the simple solution too close to see.” 

“She left a message for you as well. Do you want to hear it?” 

Solas paused. “Yes,” he said finally.

Cole shut his eyes, then spoke in elvish: “I know you will discover my cowardice, you, whose eyes see so far into the night. And now I see, finally, what you tried to show me in Crestwood. The smallest spark sets the flame in which we might both perish. If we did not hold the world in our hands, I would throw myself on that pyre and my lips would be full of praise for the burning. But I dance on the tip of the knife. And so we must endure.”

The words seared themselves into Solas’ heart. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Thank you, Cole.”

“Did I help?” 

“Yes, Cole. You helped.”

 


	22. A Game with Morrigan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira convinces Morrigan to join in a game of Wicked Grace with Cullen. Somehow, all three win.

“The Venatori are excavating dwarven ruins?” Vira asked.

“Yes,” Leliana replied.

“And the ruins are on the surface?” Vira squinted in confusion.

“So Scout Harding tells us.”

“On the _surface_? Are you sure?” Vira looked to her other advisors, who all shrugged.

“Quite certain, Inquisitor.” Leliana said with no trace of impatience.

“Well, clearly, I need to see this. Though I hate to take the time to investigate. The Hissing Wastes aren’t exactly close. Morrigan, any progress on finding the Eluvian that Corypheus seeks?”

The witch shook her head. “I have nothing to report at this time, Inquisitor.”

“Well, the Eluvian isn’t in the Hissing Wastes, that’s for sure,” Vira said. “At least not in these dwarven ruins. Which, just to clarify, are on the surface, not underground? I’m sorry, don’t answer that,” Vira said, dismissing her question with a wave. “Cullen, Josephine, thoughts?”

Josephine referred to her clipboard. “I have no pressing matters which require your personal attention, Inquisitor.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he examined the war table. “Since you routed the remaining Red Templars in Emprise du Lion so successfully last week -”

“I did rather, didn’t I?” Vira winked at him.

The Commander chuckled. “You did,” he said in admiration, locking eyes with her. Josephine cleared her throat pointedly.

The sound broke Cullen’s reverie. “Yes. Well. Disrupting the source of red lyrium had been the most pressing issue from a military perspective, and now that’s no longer an issue. At this point, I’d recommend our forces focus on building strength to be ready for Corypheus’ next move. Whenever it is you find out what he’s looking for.”

“Fine. I’ll head out in two days. I’ll take Blackwall. He needs to know he’s still part of the team. He’s still beating himself up about what happened.” Vira said.

“Is he?” Josephine sounded worried.

“It’s okay, Josie,” Vira smiled. “A week or two bashing in Venatori skulls and he’ll be fine. I’ll take Dorian and Varric as well. And Cole, too. I get nervous leaving him around Cassandra for too long. He makes her sword hand itchy. If there’s nothing further, I think we can conclude for the day.”

Morrigan lingered at the War Table, staring down at the map as the others filed out.

Vira nodded to her advisors in dismissal. “Something wrong, Morrigan?” Vira leaned on the table.

The witch fixed her with a steely gaze. “How do you do it?”

“I’m sorry?”

Morrigan shook her head in disbelief. “I have seen you balance all their petty squabbles, their rivalries, their fears of each other. Without you, Cassandra would have sliced Cole in twain at their first meeting. Under your leadership, the Imperial Enchanter fights alongside a Red Jenny. Because of you, a Qunari warrior and a Tevinter mage enjoy an unholy union.”

Vira rolled her eyes. “They’re probably ‘enjoying it’ right now.”

Morrigan shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

“I think it’s rather cute, myself,” Vira noted. “Anyway, I’m not sure I follow your point.”

“You were raised as wild as I. Yet you command this Inquisition as if you were born to it. Where did you learn to lead?” The consternation in Morrigan’s voice was as evident as her confusion.

Vira laughed. “Didn’t I tell you I ran with the packs in the Green Dales? I learned it from the wolves.”

Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “Men are not wolves, Inquisitor.”

Vira grinned. “Are you sure about that? We’re pack animals, Morrigan. It may not look like it on the surface, but at the core, it’s the same. We vie for dominance, we collaborate, we play, we bicker, but ultimately we look out for one another, because if we did not, we would all be at risk. It’s in our nature. I just take advantage of that.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “Is it really so simple?”

“I think it is,” Vira shrugged. “But to _lead_ the pack, you have to be _in_ the pack. You can’t be aloof.”

Morrigan smirked. “Are you saying I’m aloof, Inquisitor?”

Vira paused. “You’re joking, right? That was a joke?”

“Was it too subtle for you? Perhaps you spend too much time with Varric.”

Vira burst out laughing and clapped Morrigan on the shoulder. The witch flinched slightly at the gesture, but then smiled tentatively.

“Oh, you must come to the dining hall with me tonight, Morrigan. You don’t know what you’ve been missing. Please?” Vira’s hand lingered on Morrigan’s arm.

Morrigan opened her mouth to demur, then closed it again. “I will. If for no other reason than to see you with your ‘pack’.”

“It’s your pack too, Morrigan.” Vira rubbed the woman’s shoulder. She intended it to be a friendly gesture, but it turned into more of a caress as Vira noticed the softness of Morrigan’s skin. She yanked her hand away and cleared her throat. “Eight bells. I’ll see you then.” Vira turned to leave. At the threshold of the door, she called over her shoulder. “Bring coin. Wicked Grace is the game.”

To say that a hush fell over the rowdy dining hall when Morrigan entered that evening would be an understatement. One could more accurately say that it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, the torches dimmed, and the temperature dropped fifteen degrees for a fraction of a second. All eyes swiveled to the slender woman as she teetered in the doorway.

“Ah, Morrigan!” Vira called out, covering the awkward moment. She pulled the witch into the room by her elbow. “So glad you could make it. Here, I saved you a seat next to me.” Vira gestured at an empty chair.

“Cullen you know. I believe you’ve met Dorian, Varric, Iron Bull, and Cassandra. Cole is probably here too, somewhere,” Vira said, looking around. “And Sera will no doubt join us later.”

“I hope not,” Bull muttered. “I owe her two sovereigns.”

“You shouldn’t have made that bet, Tiny,” Varric pointed out.

“What bet?” Cassandra frowned. “Please do not tell me you challenged her skills with a bow. She is unrivalled.”

“Hey!” Varric protested.

“She is unrivalled with the longbow,” Cassandra corrected herself.

“That’s better.” Varric said. “So, Morrigan, do what do we owe the pleasure?” He poured her a glass of mead.

“Oh, no thank you,” Morrigan said. “I don’t drink mead.”

“You do tonight.” Vira said. “I made her come. I’m tired of beating you all at cards. Needed some fresh blood.”

Morrigan attempted a smile. “I am only happy to oblige.”

Vira toasted the witch. Morrigan took a sip of the mead.

Cullen shook his head. “Don’t even attempt to play chess with her,” he said. “Brutal, she is.” He looked across the table at Vira, an almost hungry look on his face. They locked eyes.

“Are we starting already with the flirting?” Corian said, dealing the cards. “A bit early, isn’t it?”

“Seriously, you two, it is kind of ridiculous,” Varric said to Vira and Cullen.

“You should see them in the War Room,” Morrigan offered tentatively. “Scandalous.” She took another sip.

Bull roared with laughter while Cullen managed to look guilty.

“I can’t help it,” Vira said, lifting her chin and composing her features into a dignified expression. “It’s not my fault we have the most handsome and talented military advisor in all Thedas.”

“You have played Wicked Grace, I take it?” Dorian asked Morrigan as he flicked cards around the table. “It’s a variant of a Tevinter game, actually.”

“Tevinter? Are you quite sure? Or did you merely steal it from the Dalish?” Morrigan murmured as she looked at her cards.

“I _like_ this one,” Bull said.

Vira glanced to her right and smiled at Morrigan, giving the witch a very subtle wink.

A few hands later, and Vira looked at her stack of coins. It was much smaller than when she came in. And somehow the jug of mead was empty. “I’m beginning to regret inviting you, Morrigan,” she said with a hiccup. “You already cleaned poor Cassandra out. She’s probably asleep by now. That has to be the quickest we’ve lost a player.”

“Pssh,” Varric snorted. “The Seeker is not meant for Wicked Grace. It’s like taking candy from a baby.”

“I am enjoying this game, Vir’athawen,” Morrigan smiled, leaning towards Vira. The mead had brought a slight flush to her cheeks. Somehow, over the course of the evening, she and Vira had come to sit very close to one another, their knees casually brushing under the table.

“Ooh, she says it all fancy.” Sera walked in, plopping into an empty seat. “Like the eggy one.”

“Eggy one?” Morrigan looked around in confusion.

There was an awkward pause. “Ah, she means Solas,” Varric explained.

Vira stared resolutely at her cards. “You playing, Sera?” The Inquisitor kept her voice light.

“Nah,” Sera said. “Jus’ came to get my two sovereigns.”

Iron Bull grumbled and reached for his coin pouch.

“So, Morry,” Sera said, leaning back in her chair and putting a foot on the table. “Can you change into anything, then? Like a nug or whatever?”

“I would have thought you would prefer a pussycat,” Morrigan said, a twinkle in her eye. She sipped her mead and went back to contemplating her cards.

Sera giggled, a throaty sound. She walked behind them to pick up the coins from Bull. “I might do, yeah. Might not be the only one, though.” Sera put her hand on Vira’s shoulder, giving her an impish grin before she walked out.

“Did it just suddenly get warm in here, or....” Vira fanned her face with her hand. She looked up from her cards.

Dorian’s eyebrows looked like they were trying to migrate into his hairline. Iron Bull, meanwhile, had set his cards down and was openly staring at Vira and Morrigan with a filthy grin. Varric was rubbing his forehead. And Cullen’s eyes darted between Vira and Morrigan, like a cat who caught a mouse but doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Are we still playing or what?” Vira demanded.

The men looked back to their cards.

“‘Tis a fascinating game,” Morrigan said. “And you play often?” She tossed a few coins onto the table. “Three silver.”

“If we’d known you played, we would’ve invited you ages ago,” Dorian said, seeing the bet. “I call.”

“Flush,” Morrigan said, laying her cards on the table.

“No!” Dorian said.

“We must get her to play against Josephine. Do you remember when -” Vira began.

“Not a word!” Cullen frowned.

Morrigan looked around innocently. She leaned even closer to Vira. “What happened?”

Cullen put his head into his hands as Vira leaned over and whispered into Morrigan’s ear. He groaned and looked at them through his fingers.

“Never bet against an Antivan, eh, Commander?” Morrigan murmured. “It must have been... quite a sight.” Her eyes traveled down Cullen’s face to his chest, then back.

“Am I dreaming right now, or what?” Bull said to no one in particular.

“I wish,” Varric muttered.

“Oh, it was _quite_ a sight,” Dorian assured her. “Phenomenal. _Highly_ recommended.”

“I can only imagine,” Morrigan said, looking over at Vira. “You are a lucky woman,” she murmured.

Vira raised her eyebrows. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Varric slapped his forehead. “Ugggh.”

“You sound like Cassandra,” Bull said under his breath, still staring at the two women.

“Well maybe she has the right idea,” Varric said. He stood and scooped the remaining coins in his stash off the table. “I am going to bed,” he said loudly. “Got to get ready for the Hissing Wastes, you know. Sparkler, Tiny, maybe you should think about getting ready for bed too.”

“I _am_ getting ready for bed,” Bull said, leering at Vira and Morrigan, who were now whispering to each other and shooting naughty glances at a seemingly-paralyzed Cullen.

Dorian shook his head. “The dwarf’s right, Bull.” He rose and stretched.

“Awwww.” Bull grumbled. “You guys are no fun.”

Vira and Morrigan hardly noticed as the others left, leaving the two women and Cullen alone in the dining hall. Vira had shifted in her seat to face Morrigan, draping an arm over the back of her chair. Cullen watched as the Inquisitor continued to murmur into the witch’s ear.

“I see,” Morrigan said, looking across the table at Cullen. She locked eyes with the Commander. “And you're quite sure?”

Vira gave a throaty chuckle. “Pretty sure, yes.”

“Well then. I believe I must... retire for the evening,” Morrigan said, rising from the table. “I shall see you both... later.” The witch withdrew from the room with a bow of the head.

“Maker's breath,” Cullen breathed. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, I'll tell you later. Unless you want to play another round?”

“Ah – no,” Cullen said. “Suddenly I feel the urgent need to go to bed.”

“Excellent choice,” Vira smirked, draining her mead.

Cullen and Vira made their way through Skyhold, walking quickly but casually. Once the door to Vira's chambers closed behind them, however, the Commander and the Inquisitor fell on each other hungrily, their mouths greedily exploring while their hands fumbled with clothes.

They stumbled down the corridor and up the stairs to Vira's bedchamber. Once in front of the fireplace, Cullen began to unstrap his belt.

“Wait,” Vira said, breathing heavily. “I have to ask you something. Do you remember what we talked about after Adamant?”

Cullen blinked. “Which part?”

“The part about you wanting to watch,” Vira whispered into his ear. “Was that just specific to Bull, or...?”

“Well, not exactly,” Cullen said. “I mean, there are people I _wouldn't_ want to see you with, absolutely.”

“And is Morrigan one of those people? I hope to the Creators the answer is no,” Vira said, a grin on her face.

“Mmmm,” Cullen said. “That does paint a pretty picture. But... is she coming here? Everyone will see,” he hissed, looking to the door. “Vira, the rumors won't be worth it.”

Vira continued unbuckling Cullen's pants. “I don't think anyone will see. Will they, Morrigan?” she asked, raising her voice.

A raven flew through the balcony door, transforming into a golden-eyed woman. “I doubt it,” she purred.

Cullen stumbled backwards. “Maker’s breath,” he swore.

“Oh, did she scare you?” Vira said. “I’m sorry. Here, let me make it up to you.” She walked over to Morrigan. Gently, Vira cupped a hand on her cheek, before sliding in close for a kiss.

Morrigan’s lips were even softer than Vira had imagined. She tasted the remnants of the honey wine on the witch’s lips. Slowly, languidly, they explored the sensations, new to both of them.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen said again. Despite herself, Vira started laughing, giggling into Morrigan’s mouth even as they continued their kiss. She felt Morrigan’s lips curve into a smile as well.

Vira steered Morrigan towards the bed. There was a brief moment when they each made quick work of their own clothing. Vira drank in the sight of Morrigan's body, supple and pale, as she rested on her elbows on the bed. Vira leaned over her, running her hands along the smooth skin of Morrigan's thighs, belly, breasts. With a throaty laugh the Inquisitor tangled her fingers in her black hair, pulling her head gently to one side to expose the witch's white throat.

Vira lavished this with open-mouthed kisses, breathing in the rose and sandalwood perfume. Morrigan moaned quietly.

“Oh, yes,” Vira breathed. “This is even better than I imagined.”

Morrigan’s answering chuckle was wicked. “So I'm not the only one who has imagined this, then?”

It was Vira's turn to moan. She brought one knee up to rest between Morrigan's thighs. The witch began to grind her hips on Vira gently as the elf continued nuzzling her neck.

Morrigan's hands began to explore Vira's skin, the fingers tracing lightly over the elf's breasts. Vira gasped in response, gazing into the golden eyes looking up at her. Not breaking eye contact, Morrigan once again ran her fingers over the puckered skin, watching the Inquisitor's reaction. Another gasp. Now the fingers pinched lightly, and the witch was rewarded with a tiny moan. A harder pinch. And then another. Vira whimpered, shuddering. Her own hands sought out Morrigan's breasts even as she leaned in for a deep kiss.

A sound to their left caught Vira's attention. It was Cullen. He had stripped out of his clothes and sat on the divan next to the bed. He watched Vira caress Morrigan, that devilish half-smile playing on his lips. Vira looked hungrily at his obvious arousal as he began stroking himself.

Vira gasped as Morrigan caught one of her breasts between those perfect lips. Morrigan's tongue teased, making the elf squeal in pleasure. In return, Vira reached down to drag her fingertips along the inside of Morrigan's thighs.

“Yes,” Morrigan said, arching her head back, her voice low in her throat. It was Vira's turn to tease, tracing her fingers upwards along Morrigan's silky folds. She dipped a finger lightly into her and the witch's hips bucked in response.

Vira groaned and repeated the motion, adding another finger. Vira watched Morrigan's face, the golden eyes rolling back in her head, the wine-stained lips parted as the elf manipulated her with her fingers.

The witch's breath was coming in short gasps. Vira crept downwards, her lips traveling now down Morrigan's breasts and belly. She rolled to kneel between Morrigan's thighs, blowing cool air against the witch's skin, making her twitch. Vira leaned in to taste, lapping at first gently, then sucking the swollen flesh.

Morrigan let out a lingering moan as Vira's tongue continued its journey, now plunging into her. Vira moaned as well, her mouth buried in the witch. Vira brought up her hand, pushing two fingers into Morrigan while she licked rhythmically, her own hips moving as if she was also being taken.

And then she was. With a sigh, Cullen sank himself into Vira, no longer content to merely watch.

Vira could feel Morrigan's body change as her pleasure began to build. She looked at the witch's face, and saw Morrigan staring up at Cullen, panting as she watched the Commander thrust into Vira. The Inquisitor began timing the thrusts of her fingers to match Cullen's own movements. This seemed to drive the witch wild, her hips grinding into Vira's mouth and fingers.

Vira pulled away from Morrigan. “I think she wants something else, Commander, don't you?” she said over her shoulder.

Cullen groaned in response. With a throaty laugh, Vira rolled to one side, resting on one elbow to lay beside Morrigan. “Unless you have any objections?”

The witch shook her head, gasping, her hips continuing to move in desperation. Vira looked up at Cullen and nodded.

The Commander licked his lips. He held Vira's gaze as he plunged into Morrigan, whose moans now sounded loudly throughout the room. Cullen thrust firmly, slowly, over and over, his eyes not leaving Vira's face.

Vira reached down to touch Morrigan, her fingers circling even as Cullen continued his measured thrusts. She could tell that Morrigan was close, the flesh straining and swollen. She increased the pressure of her fingers ever so slightly.

With a wail, Morrigan arched into Cullen, her thighs shuddering. Cullen winced as he fought against the urge to thrust into the spasms. Still, he maintained eye contact with Vira, biting his lip with effort.

“Wait,” Vira cautioned him. Morrigan ground out her orgasm against the Commander, finally coming to rest.

Cullen pulled out with a grunt, flinching and gritting his teeth.

Vira rolled to all fours, proffering a nipple to Morrigan's lips. With a satisfied sound, Morrigan began to suck, hard, pinching the other breast with her fingers.

Cullen took a few deep breaths, watching as Vira moaned, reaching up to touch herself. Morrigan slapped the elf's hand away and took over, alternating between rubbing against her fast and hard, and thrusting fingers into the moist flesh.

It was Vira's turn to arch her head back in pleasure, her own hips moving against Morrigan's hand as the fingers dug into her. “Shit,” Vira hissed as she felt the sensations converge. “I'm -”

The thought went unfinished. Morrigan pulled her fingers out of Vira to make way for Cullen. The witch flicked against Vira's sensitive flesh as the Commander pounded into her. Vira's moan became a wail as her orgasm began. Cullen, meanwhile, had already begun to spurt inside her, holding himself still as she came.

There was a few seconds of near silence as breathing returned to normal for all of them. Vira rolled to lay on her back next to Morrigan as Cullen flopped to the divan.

“Well,” Morrigan said at last. “That was... satisfying. Do all your games of wicked grace end so spectacularly?”

Vira began to laugh weakly, joined in by Cullen and Morrigan herself.

“No,” Vira said finally. “Although I'm sure Iron Bull wishes otherwise.”

“A shame,” Morrigan said, sitting up. She rose from the bed gracefully and retrieved her clothing. “Thank you for your hospitality and... generosity, Vir'athawen. I shall not soon forget it.” With a sensual smirk, Morrigan shifted back to the form of a raven and flew out the door.


	23. A Matter of Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira is forced to question just how much power Solas actually has at his command.

The room was dim, the bookshelves overflowing with musty tomes. Vira had never visited this smaller library, buried deep within Skyhold. The duties of the Inquisitor did not leave much time for reading, nor was she a particularly studious person. Still, Dorian had mentioned seeing a book of Dalish poems, collected from many different clans by a Chantry cleric. It had little bearing on the dangers posed by Corypheus and so had not been brought up to the main archives above the rotunda. Vira thought she might bring it with her on the next field mission - something to read during her lonely nights in camp.

Vira peered at the shelves, running her fingers over the spines. She tried not to think of spiders. “Well this is no good,” she muttered. “They’re all jumbled together. Shouldn’t they be organized?” 

A footstep at the door made her jump. It was Solas. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Nice to see you, too,” Vira said, resuming her search. “I’m looking for a book of Dalish poetry.”

“I apologize. I did not expect to see you here. You surprised me.” The elf set down his candle and stared up at the shelves.

“Solas, that must be the third time you’ve told me that I ‘surprise’ you. I would hope by now that you’d revised your expectations of me rather in an upwards direction.” Vira sniffed.

He turned. “I  _ have _ , Inquisitor. Yet you keep exceeding my expectations, in... many ways.” His voice was a tinge more haughty than usual. 

Vira frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Your ‘game’ last evening. Your behavior towards Morrigan. I would not have expected such a display from you.” 

Vira turned to face Solas, folding her arms across her chest. “I take it you disapprove of my leadership, then? Morrigan’s loyalty hangs by a thread. She looks out only for herself. I need her complete devotion. So I showed her affection; I don’t deny it. The fact that I enjoyed the hell out of it is, frankly, none of your concern.”

“She is dangerous, Vir’athawen,” Solas warned.

Vira’s eyes narrowed in anger. “More dangerous than Cole? Or for that matter, more dangerous than you? I do what I must to keep this ragtag group together. If that means seducing Morrigan for a harmless bit of fun, so be it. How is that more dangerous than helping to unleash a corrupted spirit on the rampage, as you asked me to do in the Exalted Plains? At least no one died last night.” 

Solas stared at Vira as if he had never seen her before. “You... seduced her?” The dismay in his voice was in direct contrast to the desire in his eyes. 

“I didn’t intend to, but it happened, yes. And I would do it again. She holds nothing back, unlike  _ some  _ people. So please, spare me whatever priggish lecture you have ready. You relinquished your say in the matter in Crestwood. You don’t know me, Solas. You’ve proven that time and again.”

With lightning speed, Solas grabbed Vira by the shoulders and pressed her into the bookshelf, pinning her there. Vira found she was suddenly breathless and very, very aroused. 

“I know you better than you think,” he whispered into her ear. His voice had the faintest hint of a growl to it; the sound sent a frisson of lust through Vira. “I know the depth of your desires, Vir’athawen, perhaps better than you yourself.” The air around them crackled slightly as his gaze seared into her.

Vira’s desire throbbed through her. She knew she could easily push Solas away, but somehow she lacked the willpower to do so. She couldn’t remember ever seeing this side of him; it was intoxicating. His eyes burned, though whether it was from lust, frustration, or some combination was unclear.

Solas’ grip on Vira’s arms loosened, but he did not let go. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he had regained control, and his voice was calm, stern and sad. “I do not judge your actions, Inquisitor.” His lips were inches from hers. “It saddens me, to see such harshness, such ruthlessness, in a creature as beautiful and gentle as you. You were born with a halla’s heart. It grieves me that the wolf has consumed you so completely.”

Solas reached behind Vira, pulling a slender volume from the shelf. “ _ Suledin _ . ‘We endure’. Page 45.”

They locked eyes for another moment. Then he was gone.

“Shit,” Vira hissed. “Shit shit shit.”

A bell tolled from the courtyard, three times. Vira hurried out of the library, snatching the book of poetry as she went.

Cullen was waiting for her in the Great Hall. “There you are,” he said, his crooked smile playing devilish across his face. The sight unraveled the knots in Vira’s stomach.

“Were you waiting for me, Commander?” she asked.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, proffering his arm. “The War Room awaits, my lady.”

Vira gathered one last time with her advisors, as was her custom before engaging on a field mission. “Leliana, Josie,” Vira nodded greetings to them. “Morrigan.” She kept her voice light and neutral.

“Inquisitor.  _ Commander _ .” Morrigan stressed her greeting to Cullen slightly. There was no trace of embarrassment or discomfort on her face, though the barest shadow of a smile played around her lips. 

Cullen, meanwhile, blushed a deep scarlet. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very engrossed in the war table map.

Leliana’s eyes darted between the three of them. “Andraste save us,” she muttered.

“What was that?” Vira asked sweetly.

“Nothing, Inquisitor. Shall we begin?”

After the meeting, Vira headed to the requisition office to restock her personal supplies for the mission. She walked through the garden on the way back to her quarters. 

“Inquisitor, if I might have a moment?” Morrigan glided up to her. 

“Of course,” Vira said, following the witch to the Eluvian chamber. 

Morrigan closed the door behind them. “Am I right in assuming nothing else needs be said between us?” 

“Not on my account,” Vira said carefully.

“Good,” Morrigan said with a bewitching smile. “Though I do thank you most heartily for sharing your Commander.”

Vira laughed. “I think he’s probably just as grateful, Morrigan.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Morrigan tilted her head to one side. “I did not bring you here to discuss our encounter, however delightful it might have been. I wished to discuss... Solas.”

Vira tensed warily. “What of him?”

“He is not what he seems, Inquisitor. He may be dangerous.” 

“He says the same of you,” Vira noted wryly.

“As he should. I  _ am  _ dangerous,” Morrigan acknowledged. “But Solas has much more power at his command than he reveals.”

Vira shivered, remembering Solas in the library that afternoon. “And you think this poses a danger? To the Inquisition? Or to me?” 

“Not to you, no. You and he have... history, I understand?” Morrigan asked delicately.

Vira clenched her jaw. “You could... say that.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “I have no specific incidents to report, only what my intuition tells me. Given what happened with Blackwall, I felt it my duty to inform you.”

Vira took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and carefully, instead of launching into a stream of expletives as she wanted to do. “Thank you, Morrigan. I appreciate your insight.”

“You are most welcome, Inquisitor.”

Vira took a walk along the battlements to clear her head. The day had been a blur, not to mention the previous evening. She longed for someone to talk to, someone who could help her sort through the welter of emotions and information, someone perceptive, but unbiased. Someone...

A huge, horned shadow loomed behind her. “Hey, Boss.” Iron Bull leaned against the stone wall next to her. “You’re taking Dorian away for a long time. You owe me one.”

“Is that sentiment I detect? From you?” Vira laughed.

“Hey now. You guys are gonna be gone most of a month, probably. That’s a long dry spell for me. Though that girl in the tavern has been looking my way. Getting some signals there.” Bull nodded.

“Isn’t that cheating, Bull?” Vira asked pointedly.

“It’s not cheating if it’s with a woman. Or if he’s participating.” Bull ticked the conditions off on his fingers. 

Vira blinked. “You have it all worked out, then?”

“Of course,” Bull said. “Always good to know where you stand. So, what about you? Any reason you’re spending your last few hours here staring at snow rather than banging the hell out of Cullen?” 

Vira sighed. “Oh, don’t worry, there’s plenty of time for that,” she laughed. “Bull, what do you think of Solas? I need a Ben-Hassrath read.”

“You really want to know?” Bull seemed skeptical.

“Consider it an official Inquisition request. I’m too close. I need some distance.”

Bull shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone so consumed with regret. It eats away at him, has for so long he hardly remembers any other way. And for some reason,  you  make it worse.”

“Me?” Vira blinked. 

“I’m just telling you what I see. He tries to hide it and does a good job. But nothing gets by me. There’s a split second after you talk to him, when you turn away. He relaxes just a bit, and you can see the self-hatred in his face.”

Vira’s shoulders drooped. “Oh.” She looked over the mountains. “Do you think he’s dangerous? More powerful than he appears?”

“Oh, shit yeah.” Bull snorted. “C’mon, Vira, did you really need me to tell you that?”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise, Bull,” she snapped. “Fenedhis,” she swore to herself.

“Aw, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. He holds himself back, big time. Lots of mages do that, though. They never really explore the full potential of their power. That’s why I like Dorian. He doesn’t hold back.” He gave a satisfied grunt, his eyes suddenly far away. 

Vira cleared her throat pointedly.

“Oh, sorry. Solas definitely holds back on his power. Hell, maybe he does it so you won’t take him on field missions. Like someone who pretends to be bad at their job so they have less work to do.” Bull shrugged. “Can’t get away with that bullshit in the Qun, let me tell you. What do you think of him? You had that whole weird ‘dreaming together’ thing, right?”

“Yeah, we did,” Vira sighed. “I don’t know, Bull. Most of the time I’m just aggravated with Solas. He’s such a....” she searched for the word.

“Snob?” Bull offered.

“Among other things, yes. The dreams were the only time he seemed... I don’t know, approachable? He laughed, made jokes, he smiled. He showed me things... Oh, Bull, the things he showed me! They would take your breath away.” 

“Yeah? You ever... you know... in dreams?” Bull said suggestively.

Vira swatted him on the arm. “Bull, do you ever think about anything else? No!” Vira laughed indignantly. “I mean, yes, we did kiss once, but that was before...” Vira frowned, confused. “No, we never...” 

Bull watched her face carefully but said nothing.

Vira seemed to snap out of it, and continued. “But when he’s awake? I don’t even  like  Solas, sometimes. And every time I think I’m done with him for good, something happens, and I’m all caught up in... I don’t even know what to call it. It’s like magnetism.” Vira laughed. “The good thing is, it wears off. As soon as I see Cullen...” she shook her head, a smile on her face. 

“Cullen’s a good man. And I think I know what you mean. There was this one Tamassran I knew, before I went to Seheron. Ugh. She was terrible. She even smelled bad. But I couldn’t get enough of her. It was like those little sweet cakes that hurt your teeth but you can’t stop eating them. Aaarrgh,” he grunted. “I don’t know how many times I told myself I’d stop seeing her. But I would always find some excuse. It wasn’t until I was sent to Seheron that I got enough distance to lose the taste. Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “what brought this on?”

“Morrigan,” Vira explained. “She sensed the same things you did. Wanted to warn me.”

“Well, she’s not wrong. But we all have a past, Vira, you know that. Hell, look at Blackwall. Guy’s a murderer, basically. But he did the right thing. Maybe Solas is here because it’s the right thing for him. I can’t stand the guy, but we definitely need him.”

They both watched the sun dip low over the mountains. 

“Thanks, Bull,” Vira said.

“No problem, boss. So.... Morrigan, eh? How was that? I imagine she magicked herself into your quarters last night.”

Vira snorted. “She did. It was... very satisfying. At least, I thought so. I’m sure Cullen would agree.” 

“Ha HA!” Bull clapped Vira on the back hard enough to make her lose her balance. “So, our buttoned-up Commander is into sharing, eh? Huh.” Bull grinned. “That opens up all sorts of possibilities, doesn’t it.”

Vira turned to Bull. “Funny you should say that, Bull. I’ve been meaning to ask you something....”

 


	24. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira and Cullen exchange letters while the Inquisitor investigates the Hissing Wastes. Also, nugs.

The next morning came all too soon. Vira and her companions rode down the mountain pass on their way to the Hissing Wastes. As she always did, Vira turned to see Cullen standing on the battlements, his face grave. The morning wind ruffled through his fur cape. She raised her hand in a final goodbye.

“He never waves back.” Blackwall noted. “Why is that, do you suppose?”

Vira shrugged. “It’s his way.”

“If I don’t wave, it’s not goodbye. Maker, please, bring her home to me.” Cole said.

“How _disgustingly_ romantic.” Dorian sniffed. “I can’t get enough, truly.”

Thanks to the work of the Inquisition, the roads in Orlais were relatively safe. Vira almost missed the days when each journey meant fighting their way through bandits and bears. It relieved some of the tedium, anyway.

Four days into their journey, the party stopped for the evening at an Inquisition camp in the Heartlands. There were still a few hours of daylight left, so after dinner they each tended to personal tasks. Blackwall chopped wood in the forest, Varric oiled and cleaned Bianca, Dorian read several chapters in a treatise on dwarven ruins, and Cole stared at a nug.

Vira, meanwhile, had cleared a spot at the requisition table and seemed to be doing battle with a piece of parchment and a quill. “Aaaargh!” she shouted, fighting the urge to crumple the paper up and throw it away. She settled for hurling a dagger at a nearby tree, sinking the knife deep into the wood.

“What’s the matter?” Varric said.

“I’m trying to write a letter,” Vira said through gritted teeth.

Varric blinked, giving Dorian a confused look behind Vira’s back. “And...?”

“And I’m not very good at it,” she admitted. “I had no idea this would be so difficult.”

“Is it a formal Inquisition proclamation or something?” Dorian set his book down.

Vira paused for a moment. “It’s a letter to Cullen,” she admitted. “He asked me to write him. I told him yes, but I can barely write, to be honest. I don’t know how to even start.”

The mage and the dwarf gathered around her. Varric got on his tiptoes to look over her shoulder. “Well, you can start by telling him how you feel,” he offered.

“I did that. ‘Dear Cullen, I love you.’ Now what?” Vira growled in frustration and moved to tear the sheet in half.

“No no, that’s... that’s a good start,” Dorian said, doing his best to hide the amusement in his voice. “This is just too adorable, you know that, right?”

“Okay, how about you tell him what you’re experiencing.” Varric urged.

Vira rolled her eyes. She mimed writing, waving the quill a few inches over the parchment. “I miss you. Today Cole stared at a nug.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

“These nugs are happy,” Cole said, pointing at three pink creatures in a tuft of grass. “Those nugs are not,” he said, pointing at a seemingly identical group of nugs by a hollow tree trunk.

“Incredible. Should we send for Helisma?” Dorian asked no one in particular.

“Sparkler, are you helping or what?” Varric grumbled. He turned back to Vira. “Here. Let’s try this. Shut your eyes and think of Cullen. Really _think_ about him. His... I don’t know, eyes, or whatever it is you think about.”

“I know what _I_ think about.” Dorian said. He made a growling sound in his throat.

“Not helping!” Vira called out, her eyes shut.

“Okay, keep thinking. Now, Cole, we need your help,” Varric said, pulling the quill and parchment away from Vira.

Cole perked up at the word “help” and scampered over to them. Varric pointed to Vira. “Tell us what the Inquisitor is feeling.”

“Warm eyes, warm heart, we sit by the fire and ignite, burning but soft, kind.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. ‘I miss the warmth of your embrace,’ sounds about right.” Varric jotted it down.

“Joy as fresh as a spring morning. Chases the darkness away with his smile,” Cole said.

“The thought of your smile brings me joy through these dark nights,” Varric translated.

“Nice one,” Dorian noted.

Cole concentrated. “One glance and I’m there, ready, wanting, willing, trembling with -”

“Whoa there!” Varric interrupted. “I don’t think this is that kind of letter, kid.”

“Aw,” Dorian pouted. “That’s a shame.”

“Sorry,” Vira mumbled. “I got... carried away.”

Cole continued. “Lifetimes of longing for the kiss that changed everything, how many more lifetimes till I feel it again?”

“Hmmm,” Varric chewed his lip. He looked at Dorian.

“How about, ‘...these dark nights made even longer without you by my side? I count the days until we can be together again?’” the Tevinter suggested.

“Ooh, that’s good,” Varric nodded.

“Neverending, please let it never end, not like the last time, I wasn’t enough. Please, let me be enough now, let me never again be found wanting, waiting, wasting.” Cole said.

“I... don’t think we want to mention that.” Varric said carefully.

“Vira, do you really think that’s what happened? Do you really think you weren’t _good_ enough? For _Solas_? That’s utterly absurd,” Dorian scoffed. “The man should be lucky he even _met_ you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Vira said.

“You were too much, and he was too much,” Cole said. “And now the old pain is fresh inside him, he tastes the blood with every breath, why won’t it end, her lips, her eyes, the smell of her -”

“Enough, Cole! Please,” Vira said.

“Cole, can you really sense Solas’ feelings all the way from here?” Dorian asked. “Can you do that for all of us?”

The spirit shook his head. “Solas is different. He skips across the divide, feet light but heart heavy,” Cole said. “Look, that nug goes to eat with the others.” He pointed at one of the creatures as it snuffled in the grass.

“Quite. Well, the point is,” Dorian said, laying a hand on Vira’s shoulder, “Cullen is wonderful, you are wonderful, and you both make me slightly sick,” Dorian said to Vira.

Vira sighed. “I appreciate the help, gentlemen. I think I might try to do a little reading and get some sleep. Maybe my Dalish compatriots have some love poetry I can steal. I’ll finish the letter in the morning.” She picked up her book and headed to her tent.

“Sleep well, Inquisitor,” Varric said.

“Try not to dream about nugs.” Dorian added.

They reached the Hissing Wastes a few days later. Scout Harding was at the forward Inquisition camp, her diminutive freckled presence one of the only constants in Vira’s field missions. The dwarf gave her update with her normal combination of competence and humor.

“Oh, and, one other thing, Inquisitor. There’s a letter for you. From Commander Cullen.” The dwarf grinned.

“How did he get a letter to me before I even arrived?” Vira asked.

Harding shrugged, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Well he can’t always be stammering and blushing, can he?” Dorian said. “He has to be suave sometimes.”

“That is pretty smooth, actually.” Blackwall nodded in approval.

Vira did not open the letter right away. There was a Venatori camp to investigate first, and then a dwarven ruin. Vira decided she like the ruins on the surface; fewer spiders to deal with.

After they had made their way back to camp and cleaned up for the evening, Vira broke the seal on the letter as she walked to her tent.

> _My darling,_
> 
> _I’ll admit, I engaged in a bit of trickery. I sent this letter the day before you left. Hopefully it will be waiting for you in the Hissing Wastes. It needs not be said that I miss you; one might just as readily point out that I breathe, I eat, I sleep. These times when you are away are trying, to say the least. I cannot allow myself to think of what might happen should you not return. To do so would mean losing myself to blackest despair._
> 
> _Instead, I occupy myself with hope and thoughts of you. I think of how impossible it seemed those few months ago, that I could even dream of your kiss. In that moment on the battlements, just before our lips met for the first time, I felt my heart would burst from hope. Of course it almost did burst when that damned courier interrupted. I should have had Leliana demote him for lack of tact. The man’s supposed to be a trained observer, for Maker’s sake._
> 
> _Yet, somehow, despite my blundering, that kiss happened all the same. In that moment, that ridiculous, awkward, embarrassing moment, I felt my whole life shift into focus. Never before have I experienced such clarity. Though it took me some time to express, I knew then that I loved you, indeed, that I had loved you for what seems an age. I still remember the first time you touched me, when you laid your hand on my shoulder in Haven._
> 
> _I pray to the Maker each day that you return safe to me, my love. I will not say that I need you - the whole of Thedas needs you. I am no different in that regard. Yet I will say that my life is emptier without your smile, your kiss, your caress. The memory of these will have to sustain me until you return and I can be at your side once again._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Cullen_

Vira stumbled and came to a standstill as she read. “Oh no,” she said.

“Are you alright?” Dorian asked, one eyebrow arched in concern.

Without looking at him, she handed Dorian the letter.

He gave a low whistle as he scanned the sheet. “Damn,” he breathed. “Still, what’s the issue? I’d love to get a letter like that.”

Vira screwed her eyes shut in embarrassment and shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out.

Varric wandered up. “Something wrong?”

Vira waved vaguely at Dorian. The mage handed Varric the letter.

“Maker’s balls!” The dwarf’s eyes widened in shock as he read. “ _Cullen?_ Wrote _this?_ He’d better not try his hand at serials. He’ll put me out of a job.”

“What’s all the commotion?” Blackwall said, striding over to them. “Bad news from Skyhold?” He grabbed the sheet out of Varric’s hand without asking. “Well well. Our Commander has the heart of a romantic. Good man.”

By this point, Vira was dragging both hands down her face, grimacing in shame.

“It’s a good thing we helped you write your letter, eh?” Dorian said.

Vira shook her head again, her hands still on her cheeks. “I didn’t send that letter,” she whispered. “I thought it would be too flowery for Cullen.”

“Oh, no,” Varric said. “Please don’t tell me you....”

She cut him off, reciting from memory: “Dear Cullen. I love you. I miss you. Today Cole stared at a nug. Love, Vira.”

Blackwall burst out laughing. “ _That’s_ the letter you sent?” He doubled over, slapping his thigh. After a moment he appeared to regain control, only to lose it again. “Cole stared at a nug!” he bellowed.

Despite their best efforts, Dorian and Varric began to laugh as well.

Vira pleaded her case to the others. “Cullen’s always talking about how his sister pesters him to write more. I thought... maybe he didn’t like writing letters either. I thought it would be funny.”

“Well, it certainly is that, my dear,” Dorian said. “Mostly unintentional, but hilarious all the same.”

“You might want to think about getting him a present or something,” Varric cautioned, still chuckling. “To soften the blow.”

“I know, I know - get him a nug, and have Cole stare at it!” Blackwall said, exploding with another peal of laughter at his own joke. Wiping his eyes, he made his way to his tent, still laughing.

“I think we broke Blackwall,” Dorian said to no one in particular.


	25. Uncommon Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira returns from the Hissing Wastes with a gift for the Commander. Is it a nug?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, real talk, this chapter is 98% pure smut and does nothing whatsoever to carry the story forward, so if blatant sex scenes aren't your thing (?), skip this one.

A month had passed since Vira had ridden the mountain pass to Skyhold. The full moon was high in the sky as she rode up the steep slopes with her party. As it always did after a long journey, the sight of the keep filled her with a welter of emotions that she could not quite identify.

“Ah, it’s good to be home,” Dorian said with a smile as they crossed through the gates.

“It _is_ home, isn’t it?” Vira said, gazing at the ancient stone walls and their coat of ivy.

Vira’s first order of business was to bathe. The scent of a ten-day ride on a hart’s back clung to her like a second skin. After, she slipped into her clothing and made her way to Cullen’s tower.

She walked through the rotunda. Solas, surprisingly, was still awake. He leaned over his desk, frowning at a scroll. “Inquisitor,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t expect you to still be awake, Solas. Is everything alright?” Vira asked.

“Aside from the grave threats we still face?” He almost smiled.

“We take those as rote by now, don’t we? Oh, that reminds me. I found a staff you might want to use. It’s called Bloodwake. I sent it down to Dagna for upgrades. You can pick it up in a few days.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor. Though, I hope you did not let Dorian use it first. I would not want his Tevinter magic to corrupt the power of the staff.” Solas said.

“I heard that!” Dorian’s voice floated down from the gallery.

A sly smile stole across Solas’ face.

Vira blinked in bemused surprise. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am fine, Lethallan. Go. Your Commander no doubt awaits you in his dreams.”

“I’m not going to ask how you know that.” Vira said suspiciously, as she opened the door to the battlements.

Cullen was awake, the sound of the creaking ladder alerting him to Vira’s presence. For several minutes the only sound was of their kisses.

“I missed you so much,” Vira said finally, cradling his face in her hands. “I’m so glad to be home.”

“Well, I know it’s hard to rip yourself away from Cole when he’s staring at nugs. I hear it’s quite entrancing.” Cullen said.

Vira hit him with a pillow. “It was supposed to be funny!” she wailed.

Cullen sat up and traced her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll admit, once I got over my initial disappointment at the brevity, I did laugh. Did he really stare at nugs?”

“For _hours_. And he narrated all their varied emotions for us, too.”

Cullen chuckled. “Nugs have a complex inner life, do they?”

“No, they don’t,” Vira said pointedly. “There was ‘happy’, ‘not happy’, and ‘eating’. Though he did seem a bit traumatized when two of them started mating.”

Cullen laughed, cupping Vira’s face in his hand. “I love you so much. No one has ever made me feel this way.”

Vira kissed him. “Me neither. I did get you something, though, to make up for my terrible letter-writing skills. Come to my quarters tomorrow at eight bells.”

“Ooh, a mysterious present. I’m intrigued.” He pulled her down to the bed. “Is it a nug?”

The next day, as directed, Cullen arrived at Vira’s quarters at eight bells. There was a runner standing by the door. “Commander,” the woman saluted crisply. “The Inquisitor asked me to tell you - she is in the prison cells. The Iron Bull has made some suggestions for improvements. The Inquisitor asks that you meet her there.”

Cullen fought the urge to roll his eyes in frustration. He thanked the runner and made his way to the prison cells.

The Commander descended the long stairway to the cells. He could hear Bull’s voice and Vira’s answering laugh.

“Inquisitor? I got your mess-” Cullen’s voice died out in shock. Vira and Bull were there, but they were decidedly not inspecting the fortifications. Vira sat on a heavy wooden table covered by thick, soft cloth, her legs kicking in the air and a devilish look in her eye. She had changed out of her normal clothing and was wearing some sort of diaphanous silky gown that left little to the imagination. Bull stood between her legs, his fingers tracing her pointed ears, a wicked grin on his face.

“Ah, Commander, you’ve joined us,” Bull said, gesturing Cullen into the room.

“Bull, you really are cruel.” Another voice rang out from beside the Commander. He whirled to see Dorian, naked to the waist and blindfolded, tied to a post with strips of cloth.

“I told you what would happen, Dorian. It was your choice to make.” Bull said. “And now you pay the price.”

The mage gave a resigned, but not displeased, sigh. “I can’t believe I won’t get to see this.”

Bull took Cullen by the elbow, steering him further into the room. “Okay, Commander, this is how it works. Go talk to Vira. Make sure this is what you want. It’s not for everyone. No hard feelings if you back out.” Bull clapped him on the shoulder then went to check on Dorian.

Cullen shook his head to clear his confusion as he walked over to Vira. “What’s going on?” He murmured, keeping his voice low.

“You _did_ say you wanted to watch, Cullen. And since I got what I wanted with Morrigan, I thought it was only fair.” She ran a hand up and down his arm.

Cullen ran his eyes over Vira’s body, her nipples pressing through the thin cloth. He groaned at the sight. “Why here?”

“Well, I thought it would be too obvious if we all went to my quarters. Bull suggested it, actually. We’ve got no prisoners right now, the door locks, and you can scream bloody murder and no one can hear.”

“But what is Dorian doing here?” He looked over at the half-naked mage with curiosity.

“Oh, that,” Vira said. “It was part of the deal I made with Bull. He’s really quite fond of Dorian, you know. Bull wouldn’t agree to do this unless Dorian was here. He’s only allowed to listen, though. I think it’s one of their games.” Vira wrapped her legs around Cullen, pulling him closer. “So, are you in?”

“Maker’s breath,” he whispered. “Yes.” He kissed her deeply.

“Hey now,” Bull called out. “That’s enough. You can kiss later.”

“Oh, are they kissing? I can’t _believe_ I’m missing this,” Dorian pouted.

“Now, Vira tells me you like to watch,” Bull said casually. “I can get behind that. Heh, I probably will. If you’ll allow me, Commander.” He held his hand out, directing Cullen to stand a few feet away from the table.

Bull guided Vira’s shoulders down so that she could lay flat on the table. The Qunari ran his hands up and down her body, caressing her through the thin fabric, pinching and kneading.

Cullen watched as Vira began to lose herself in the sensations. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Soft moans escaped her lips. Cullen’s glance rose and he saw Dorian. The mage’s head was tilted as he strove to determine what was happening by sound alone.

With a smirk, Cullen made his way to stand behind the Tevinter. Bull and Vira hardly noticed, both wrapped up in their own activities. Cullen leaned over Dorian’s shoulder and whispered into his ear. “I wish you could see this, Dorian. You’re really missing out.” The Commander couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get back at Dorian for months of flirtation across the chess table.

Dorian moaned very quietly in frustration. Cullen leaned into him and began to narrate, his voice low.

“Aww, poor Dorian. How about I tell you what they’re doing? Bull is licking Vira’s breasts through her dress. First one, now the other. He’s pinching her nipples, with those big, rough fingers. I imagine you know how that feels.” Cullen ran one finger down the mage’s sculpted chest, lightly tickling, then pinching hard. Dorian’s body squirmed in response, but he made no sound save a quiet gasp.

Cullen continued his verbal assault. “Now he’s sliding her dress up her hips. He’s just teasing her, tickling the inside of her thighs. Ooh, she’s really getting frustrated. She grabbed his horns. Ah, that’s what she wants. He’s got his fingers inside her now. Mmmm, I can tell she likes it. Her eyes are closed and she’s arching her back. He’s really giving it to her. Now he’s licking down her belly. He slowed down; he’s teasing her again. You hear her moaning? She wants it.”

Cullen paused his narration. Dorian, meanwhile, was making small sounds as he attempted to lean into Cullen. The Commander ran his lips over Dorian’s exposed neck. The mage shuddered in pleasure.

Cullen groaned, the sound turning into a throaty chuckle. “Yes, that’s it. Now Bull is licking her, just where she likes it. She has her legs hooked over his horns. His hand is thrusting faster. I wonder how many fingers he’s using - two at least. When she’s like this she’s incredibly wet. She’s close now. I can hear it in her voice. Just a little more will be enough to send her over the edge. And here’s the great thing, Dorian. She can hear every word I’ve been saying, with those ears of hers.”

Vira’s lips curled into a wicked smile, though her eyes remained closed. Dorian, meanwhile, whimpered again in desperate frustration.

Cullen continued. “Yes. She can hear everything. But what she doesn’t know is what you’ve been doing to me, with your hands behind your back. I must say, it’s quite enjoyable.”

Vira’s eyes flew open and she craned her head to look at Cullen and Dorian. Cullen was leaning into the mage’s hands, up and down as Dorian stroked him through his pants. Cullen was running his lips along the edge of the Tevinter’s ear.

The Commander caught Vira’s eye and he winked, then began to unbuckle his pants. He rubbed his stubbled cheek along Dorian’s neck. “She sees us now. I think she likes what she sees, Dorian.” His pants fell to the floor, and he groaned quietly as Dorian’s hands sought his bare flesh. “That feels so good, Dorian. And I think Vira’s very close now. I think she’s going to come.”

With a wail, Vira’s body flew into spasms. Bull continued to pleasure her until the quivering stopped. Cullen, meanwhile, had begun to nibble on Dorian’s shoulder, causing the bound mage to moan loudly.

Bull raised his head. “What the -” His eye widened in shock as he watched the Commander tease the mage. “Holy _shit_ that’s hot,” Bull said. The Qunari turned to Vira, cocking his head at the men. “Did you know he would...?”

Vira shook her head, her eyes wide as saucers.

Cullen yanked off his shirt and resumed teasing Dorian, now openly tracing his tongue on the mage’s earlobe.

“Shit, Vira,” Bull said. “Roll over.”

Vira did not need to be asked twice. She scrambled to her hands and knees, facing Cullen and Dorian. Bull slowly began to take her from behind.

“What’s happening?” Dorian’s voice broke slightly.

“He’s taking her,” Cullen said, now speaking loud enough for Bull to hear as well. “She’s so tiny; she must be stretched almost to her limit. I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He brought his fingers up to Dorian’s mouth.

Dorian parted his lips as Cullen traced them with his thumb. The Commander grunted with satisfaction as the mage began to suck.

“They’re moving now,” Cullen said. “Not too much. Bull is watching you, Dorian. He’s watching you touch me. He knows exactly how it feels.”

“Holy shit,” Bull said. He slammed into Vira, hard.

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, Bull.”

Bull grunted and smacked her ass.

“Venedhis, Bull,” Dorian swore. “Are you spanking her?”

“You should know, Dorian,” Bull said, lacing Vira with firm spanks, in time to the rhythm of his thrusts.

The sight of Vira being spanked was a pleasant shock for Cullen. Vira locked eyes with him, biting her lip as the stinging sensation mingled with the growing knot of pleasure.

“He’s really giving it to her now. Can you hear it, Dorian? They’re so close. And here you are, poor thing, struggling and helpless. Here, let me help.” Cullen reached around to run his fingers along Dorian’s cock, the hard flesh straining against the thin fabric of his trousers.

“Ah,” Dorian gasped. “Oh, please, _yes_ , Cullen. Please.”

Cullen gave a wicked chuckle. He slowly pulled the drawstring to the mage’s pants, maintaining eye contact with Vira.

Vira gave a warbling moan as she teetered on the edge. She reached up to touch herself. Her gaze fell to Cullen’s hands as he slid the fabric down around Dorian’s hips. As the Commander’s finger traced the mage’s skin, Vira gave a loud groan of release.

Bull, however, wasn’t done with her. As soon as the shuddering in her body stopped, he pulled out. He turned Vira to the side, still on all fours, and offered himself to her mouth.

She took him greedily, wrapping her hands around him as she sucked. Bull gripped her hair and thrust in and out, grunting.

Dorian was gasping as Cullen continued to tease him. “Please,” he begged.

“You can wait a moment longer, can’t you?” Cullen smirked. “Vira is sucking Bull now. He’s close, I think. Can you tell?”

Dorian moaned as he listened to Bull’s grunts. “Yes, he’s close,” Dorian said, breathless.

“He’s going to come in that pretty little mouth,” Cullen said. His hand now lightly gripped Dorian; he stroked up and down, very gently.

“Oh, fuck!” Bull shouted, as Cullen’s prediction came true.

“Well, the show’s over, so I think it’s safe to take these off now,” Cullen said, looking to Bull for permission. Bull nodded quickly, his eye wide with shock and lust. He pulled the blindfold off Dorian and untied the bindings. Cullen pulled Dorian’s face to his, weaving his fingers into Dorian’s hair. Dorian whimpered slightly in anticipation as he felt the Commander’s breath on his lips.

Finally, Cullen gave the mage what he so desperately wanted. Their kiss was almost feral, wild. Teeth clacked together and their tongues strove wildly against each other. Cullen’s hands wove into Dorian’s hair, while the mage pulled Cullen close, fondling his hips and ass. Cullen yanked Dorian’s hair back, coaxing a whimper which grew to a groan when the Commander sank his teeth into Dorian’s neck.

After a few moments, their kiss became languorous as Dorian’s desperation was quelled. Dorian reached down and began to stroke Cullen in earnest, groaning in satisfaction as the Commander did the same.

“Creators,” Vira muttered. “That is so....” Her eyes were glazed over in lust.

“I _know_ ,” Bull said hungrily. “Damn.”

By now Dorian’s moans were almost continuous, pleading. Cullen’s answering growls were insistent. Cullen gripped the back of Dorian’s neck with his free hand. They left off kissing as they both approached the edge, staring intently into each other’s eyes.

With a hiss, Cullen came first, his hips thrusting into Dorian’s hand. Dorian followed a second later.

On unsteady feet, Cullen made his way to lean on the table, pausing to pick up his shirt and pants. As he pulled the tunic over his head, he realized the other three were staring at him in various levels of surprise.

“What?” He said.

“Commander, I had no idea your tastes were so... varied,” Dorian said. He put his hands on his hips, apparently unconcerned by his nudity. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining.”

Cullen shrugged. “It can be quite lonely, training to be a Templar. The rule was, everything was fair game as long as you, ah... finish alone.” He cleared his throat significantly.

“Well, shit, if I’d known, I would have suggested this myself ages ago.” Bull said.

There was a momentary awkward pause.

“Okay, well, drinks are on me, gentlemen.” Vira said.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dorian grinned.


	26. Temple and Altar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vira deals with the aftermath of the events at the Temple of Mythal. Cullen takes lessons to overcome his bashfulness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the end! This is a long one because: extra smut. Enjoy!

The stillness of the Crossroads was broken as an Eluvian sprang to life. Five bodies tumbled through the frame, the glass shattering behind them seconds later as Corypheus slammed into it from the other side.

“Where are we?” The Iron Bull looked around in suspicion.

“‘Tis the Crossroads,” Morrigan stated. “We are safe. Corypheus cannot follow. The Eluvian is no more.”

“First the Fade, and now this crap,” Bull grunted.

“So!” Dorian appraised his surroundings. “This is where the Eluvians lead, eh? I have to say, I didn’t expect it to be so... _drab_.”

“It’s calm here. The quiet feels like forgetting to remember,” Cole said.

“We must leave at once, Inquisitor,” Solas urged, not quite meeting Vira’s eyes.

“What’s the rush?” she asked. “We’re safe. Are you injured?”

“No, I... I simply believe it is in our best interests to return to Skyhold at once.” Solas stuttered, turning away.

Vira peered suspiciously at him. Solas seemed different, somehow. There was something, some hidden quality that lingered around him, like a familiar, forgotten scent, or something from a dream. Vira felt that she could almost put her finger on it. And yet...

“Perhaps you’re right, Solas. However, our forces are in the Arbor Wilds, and Corypheus is still there. I’d rather not leave the Inquisition to deal with him alone. Morrigan, is there any way to tell if one of these other Eluvians could return us closer to where we left?”

Morrigan was also staring at Solas suspiciously. “Unfortunately, no,” she stated. “I can return us to Skyhold, however.”

Solas nodded and began striding purposefully through the seemingly endless field of Eluvians.

“Though apparently I am not the only one,” Morrigan murmured, following the elf.

The next few days were a blur of worry for Vira. As soon as they returned to Skyhold, she ran to the rookery to dispatch a messenger bird to the Arbor Wilds. It was not until the almost sunset the following day that a reply was received. Corypheus had fled the field, presumably after the Eluvian was smashed. Vira wept with relief when she found out that Cullen was safe and on his way back to the keep.

Four days later, the Inquisition forces returned to Skyhold. Vira watched as the troops filed into the keep, lead by a weary-looking Cullen. He looked up to see her standing on the staircase outside the Great Hall. The Commander saluted, the single gesture encapsulating relief, determination, love.

Cullen and Vira went straight to the War Room to convene with the advisors. Morrigan informed them that the secrets from the Well of Sorrows revealed a path forward. Of course, it would require yet another journey, this time to the Altar of Mythal.

Vira fought the urge to scream with frustration. They had no idea where Corypheus was, or what his plans were, and Morrigan was asking her to travel back to the Arbor Wilds, to another ancient elven ruin.

That night, Vira and Cullen made their way to the Inquisitor’s quarters as soon as social norms allowed, eating a hasty dinner in the dining hall and feigning fatigue, which fooled no one. The door had scarcely shut behind them before they leapt at each other, their mouths and tongues frantic with pent up need and worry. They stumbled up the corridor, tripping over each other, until Cullen finally gave up and hoisted Vira easily, wrapping her legs around his waist.

They made quick work of their clothing once they reached the bed. Cullen, as he often did, took a moment just to drink in the sight of her, his face full of tenderness. Now that the ferocity of the initial kiss faded, he was gentle. She kissed him, her lips trembling underneath his, as they hadn’t since their first kiss on the battlements. Cullen leaned back in concern. Vira had tears in her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” He trailed a finger over her neck.

“Cullen,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “I love you so much.”

The Commander gave her one of his half-smiles. “I love you too. I didn’t think that qualified as something to make you cry, however.”

Despite her burgeoning tears, Vira laughed, her voice thick. “When I’m busy, when I’m fighting, I can concentrate on other things. But now, with you, here, all I can think about is how likely it is that....” She bit her lip.

“That we won’t make it,” he finished. “I understand. We don’t have to... um... tonight.” He hoped he could hide the disappointment in his voice.

Vira laughed. “Um? _Um?_ After all we’ve done together, after what I’ve seen you do to other people, all those _filthy_ things you said to Dorian, you can’t bring yourself to say it? There are lots of options, you know. ‘Have sex’. ‘Make love’. I’d even accept ‘do it’ at this point.”

Cullen grinned sheepishly. “Well it’s different when we’re actually in the moment. It’s just difficult for me to... let go, I guess. I even -” He cut himself off, looking at Vira with a shade of embarrassment and guilt.

“What?” Vira sat up. “What did you do, Commander?”

“Well, after the other night, um, in the prison cells...” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Yes?” Vira was grinning now.

“Well, it made me realize there’s things I just don’t... ah... have any experience in.”

“Things like what?” Vira said, confused. “If anything, your little stunt with Dorian was a shock. I had no idea you’d done anything like that before.”

“Ah, yes, well.” He cleared his throat again. In the dim room, it was difficult to tell, but Vira could swear he was blushing. “The spanking. I’ve... I’ve never...”

“Spanked someone?”

He shook his head.  “And... you really seemed to enjoy it. So I, er, asked Bull to give me some, um, lessons.” He bit his lip, grimacing in anticipation of her reaction.

“What?” Vira snorted with laughter, practically choking. “When was this?”

“The night after the prison cells. You’d gone off on a mission. I thought maybe I could surprise you with it at some point. I wanted to make sure I did it properly.”

Vira took a deep breath the quell the giggling. “And how did he teach you? I’m afraid to ask.”

“Um, well, he had me practice. Uh... on Dorian.”

Vira covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, only to have another jag of giggles overtake her.

Cullen looked sheepish, but he too started to laugh. "Well I didn't want to risk hurting you!"

"No, no, I appreciate the effort. So, how was it? Learn much, did you?" Vira's eyes sparkled, mostly with humor, though there was a tinge of lust as well.  

Cullen grinned boyishly. He reached up to twirl his fingers in her hair. Without changing expression, his hand stiffened, pulling hard. "You'll have to let me know."

Vira gasped at the sensation. Pinpricks flew across her scalp like electricity. Her eyes glazed with sudden need. "Is that an order, Commander?"

Cullen's gaze was hungry. Still, he paused. “What will you say to stop me?”

Vira blinked. A watchword. “Revas,” she said. The elven word for freedom.

He nodded, then pulled harder, yanking Vira's head back so that he could claim her mouth.

Where his kisses had before been desperate, or tender, now they were possessive. It was an entirely new side to the bashful ex-Templar, and Vira _very_ much approved, moaning into his mouth.

Cullen scraped his fingers up Vira’s thigh, hips, belly, his fingernails leaving pink trails that made her shudder. A hard pinch of her nipple elicited a squeal and she nipped at his lower lip.

“Oh no. None of that,” he growled. “Roll over. Eyes closed.”

Vira could not comply fast enough. Cullen’s voice did things to her even when he spoke normally. Now, with his voice low and raspy, tinged with the snap of command? She groaned, sinking her head into her pillow.

She felt him get off the bed and move about the room, the sound of cloth rustling and something... metal? glass? clinking slightly. Vira's stomach quivered in anticipation. Her encounter with Bull in Lydes had awakened something in Vira. She wanted more. Cullen had been an attentive lover, considerate almost to a fault. Until that night in the prison cells, Vira would never have guessed the commander to be capable of wielding the kind of power she craved. The power she had felt... when? She couldn't remember, quite.   

The bed sank under Cullen's weight, scattering Vira's train of thought. Cullen ran a hand up her legs and she spread them eagerly so that he could kneel between.

Vira felt him lean over her, his lips just by her ear. “Bull taught me lots of things, you know. Things about _you._ ”

Before Vira had the chance to ask what those things were, she felt a tickling sensation along her spine. She shuddered and convulsed.

Cullen chuckled wickedly. “Oh, no, Inquisitor. No squirming out of the way.” Cullen held her by one shoulder.

“What... _fuck!_ ” she gasped. “What _is_ that?”

“A feather,” Cullen said calmly. “And look what it’s doing to you. Bull was right. You’ve practically come undone, and I’ve barely touched you.” He ran the feather down the crack of her ass, giving a low chuckle when she bucked back against it. “You should’ve seen what it did to Dorian.”

The thought of Cullen teasing poor Dorian elicited a laugh from Vira. “Let me... ah! Let me guess. Did he set it on fire?”

“If he could’ve concentrated, he probably would have. Of course, Bull had two fingers in his ass by that point.” Cullen punctuated the remark by replacing the feather’s teasing on Vira’s crease with his finger, just the slightest bit of pressure on the aperture.

“Fenedhis!” Vira said, arching her back as far as she could into his touch.

Cullen hummed in appreciation. “Bull said you might like that, too.” He released his hand from Vira’s shoulder and began massaging her lower back and buttocks.

Her body calmed into his touch. Soon he was no longer massaging, but stroking, almost petting. This continued for a few moments, as Vira relaxed into the bed.

Then, _smack!_ It was firm, sharp, a stinging sensation just on the edge of what Vira could handle. She arched in a soundless whimper, but Cullen’s hands were already back to the slow, rhythmic caresses. Vira forced herself to breathe and relax.

Cullen chuckled at her response. His hands continued their work, and then another spank. Before Vira could process the sensation, he went back to his languid caresses.

“Please,” Vira said, her voice almost all breath.

“Please... what? What is it you want, Inquisitor?” Cullen suddenly pulled his hand away as if to strike, and Vira’s body tensed, but then... nothing. Cullen resumed his massage. His laugh at Vira’s frustrated gasp, when no spank was forthcoming? Positively diabolical.

“Cullen, please!” Her voice was insistent.

“Please what, my dear?” Again, he drew his hand away, but did not follow through.

Vira growled in frustration. “Spank me,” she said over her shoulder, her voice breaking in humiliation.

“Ah, that’s it.” Cullen said. “Good girl.” He dealt a rain of sharp smacks, alternating sides, in a slow, steady rhythm. Vira’s moans became squeals, then mewling cries, and then shouts.

“Ah, Cullen, that’s... ungh... I can’t....” Vira’s head shook from side to side. Her skin felt like it was on fire.

“Good girl, that’s it. Five more. Breathe. Count with me. Come on,” Cullen urged. He smacked her.

“Five!” she gasped. “Four!” There seemed an interminable wait, and Vira ground her hips into the bed in desperation. “Please, Cullen,” she begged.

The remaining blows were dealt in quick succession. Her body convulsed away from the last smack, but then Cullen was reaching for her, turning her over, drawing her up to his chest so that she straddled his legs. “Good girl,” he said. “That’s it. You did so well. You’re so beautiful like this.” He continued to murmur praise at Vira, planting soft kisses along her clavicle.

Vira felt hazy, blissed out. Bull had spanked her, yes, but this was much more intimate. She tried to focus on Cullen’s words, that voice wrapping around her like barbed velvet.

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “You’ve left quite a mess on the sheets, I see.” He peered behind her at the damp spot on the bed. “You must be positively dripping. Let’s find out.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached down, lightly dragging one finger along her folds.

Vira attempted to impale herself on his finger, but he moved away. “Mmm, eager. And wet. Very wet. I have just the thing for that though. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes.”

He gave himself a few hard strokes, then pushed into her. Vira fought to keep her eyes open as he slowly entered her. She gritted her teeth. “Fuck, Cullen,” she gasped.

“Is that a command, Inquisitor?” He gripped her ass, the skin still hot, and thrust into her, hard.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth open in a silent moan.

“Breathe,” he reminded her. “Eyes open. I want to watch your beautiful face as I fuck you. As I bury myself into you over.” A thrust. “And over.” Another. “That’s it. Take it. Take it.”

At those words, something in Vira seemed to uncoil, though she didn’t know why. Her breath rushed out of her in a shuddering gasp. Cullen watched her face carefully. He reached down to touch her, one knuckle rubbing against her swollen knot of flesh. “That’s it, Vira, come for me. That’s a good girl. Come for me. I want to feel you.”

The spasms erupted inside her. She bounced up and down on him, her eyes half-closed, muttering a stream of expletives.

Vira had not fully finished when Cullen pulled out of her, laying her on her back on the cool sheets. Slight tremors still raced through her, and there was still tension inside that had yet to find release, as if she had not crested the final wave.

Fumbling, Vira reached for him. He chuckled. “Oh no. I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not done with you yet, Inquisitor.”

Vira shivered. How in the name of the Creators was he able to make her title seem so deliciously _dirty_?

“And just so you’re not tempted again...” Cullen reached along the side of the bed, coming up with a silky strip of fabric. “Arms over your head, there’s a good girl.”

Vira dutifully raised her arms, crossing them at the wrists. Cullen watched her face for a moment, pausing. She realized he was waiting to see if she would say the watchword. “Are you planning to wait all night, Commander?” Vira’s voice was slightly hoarse from all the panting.

That half-grin. How had she never noticed how incredibly devilish it was? Cullen quickly tied her hands together in some sort of slipknot, then looped it over the ornate Orlesian headboard. Vira tugged experimentally. It gave a few inches. If she didn’t put pressure on the bonds, she could hardly feel them. Still, she realized she might have marks in the morning, if Cullen continued to surprise her. The thought sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine and she drew her legs together, looking for some friction to relieve the tension.

“None of that,” the Commander said, pulling her legs apart. “Are you trying to hide from me, Inquisitor?”

Vira shook her head.

“Good girl. Look at you, all tied up, practically writhing for it. You want some more?”

 _More._ Just the way he said the word made Vira want to roll her eyes back. She nodded enthusiastically.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.” Cullen leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. This caused his biceps to flex alluringly, not to mention the hard and heavy cock bobbing from between his legs. “Eyes open. Look at me. I want to watch you beg, Inquisitor.”

“I want... more,” Vira was able to gasp out.

“More... what?” Cullen cupped himself with one hand, stroking ever so slowly.

Vira groaned, yanking against her bonds as she squirmed. “More... more cock,” she squeaked finally.

“Here?” he said, pushing two fingers into her. “But you’ve already had so much. How about... here?” His fingers dipped lower, once again lightly pressing on the tightly closed opening.

“Oh fuck!” Vira growled. “Yes!” She tried to arch against his hand.

“Ah ah! Greedy,” Cullen chastened her. He spread some of the ample wetness, then pressed very lightly, making small circles against the tight flesh. “Bull said you would probably want this. And you’ve been such a good, good girl.”

Vira gave a whimper. “Oh pleasepleaseplease,” she begged, now shameless.

“Hmmm. Well, first, I need to get you ready. You can wait a little longer, can’t you, Inquisitor?” Once again he leaned over and retrieved an item from beside the bed - a small vial.

Cullen poured a little of the contents on to his finger, then teased the opening yet again. Vira could smell the familiar spicy, floral scent of the oil. Despite herself, Vira started to giggle.

“What? What is it?” Cullen’s voice had somehow reverted to normal.

“It smells like Dorian,” Vira said, snickering.

Cullen held the vial up to his nose. “Oh, Maker’s breath,” he swore.

“I take it Bull supplied that vial?”

Cullen nodded.

Vira looked at him as her giggles diminished. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble, just to please me,” she said. “You _know_ what kind of looks you’ll be getting across the chessboard from now on.”

Cullen smirked, and suddenly Vira’s breath caught in her throat again to see the gleam in his eye. “You forget, Inquisitor, just who was dealing the punishment the other night. I think I can handle it.”

Vira’s smile was wicked. “Commander, I believe you were in the middle of something.”

Cullen groaned in appreciation. He licked his lips, the tip of his tongue just flicking out to his scar.

Creators, how was he _doing_ this? How could he possibly get _more_ sexy? Vira strained against her bonds. “Please?”

“You interrupted me,” he chided. “Now we have to start over.” Cullen leaned down so that his tongue lapped between her legs.

“Ah, yes....” Vira said, rolling her eyes back in her head.

Cullen took his time, lapping, flicking, and sometimes plunging his tongue inside her. It wasn’t until Vira was panting in earnest that he once again laid an oiled finger on her tight opening.

“Yes, yes.” Vira’s voice was close to a whine.

“Greedy. There’s my good girl. Eyes open, look at me. Let’s give you what you need.” With firm, steady pressure, Cullen pushed his finger into her, up to his second knuckle, while watching her face.

Vira immediately tensed up around him, the unfamiliar sensation heightened by the intimacy of the eye contact. Cullen held his finger still, but reached up with his thumb to stroke her, the small circles he knew she liked. His voice blanketed her.

“Mmm, you want this, don’t you. You’re so tight, the way you’re gripping me. Relax, good girl. That’s it. See, isn’t that better? It feels good, doesn’t it? I can feel you getting all swollen again. And you’re still so wet. I just want to sink myself into you, fuck you blind, make you forget everything outside this room. But you’re being so good, taking my finger this way. Maybe you want one more?” He pulled almost all the way out, then slid two fingers in.

Vira squealed. Cullen laid a calming hand on her hips, then used his free hand to resume the small, slow circles she craved. “You’re doing so good. Maker, you’re beautiful. I wish you could see how you look, all stretched open. That’s it. Move against me. Take my fingers. Go on, take it. Take it.”

Vira groaned, those words somehow sending her into a tailspin. Cullen’s voice, meanwhile, kept up its assault: “Gorgeous. Look at you, opening up for me. You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can feel it. One more. One more, good girl.”

A third finger was introduced, gently. Vira hissed, struggling to keep her eyes open and trained on Cullen’s face.

“Oh, you’re doing so good. I can feel you stretching for me. _Fuck,_ Vira, it’s so good. You know I’m going to take you. I’m going to sink my cock into this tight little hole, and fuck you senseless. Is that what you want, Inquisitor? You want me to fuck you in the ass? Tell me.” His voice commanded.

“I... I....” Vira panted. Never before had the concept of keeping her eyes open while speaking been so difficult.

“Tell me what you want,” Cullen repeated, his voice now breaking a bit. He swirled his fingers in her.

“Fuck, yes, Cullen. I want you... I want you to...” She tugged hard on the bonds on her wrists. The momentary twinge of pain grounded her. “I want you to fuck me... in the ass,” she managed to gasp.

With a satisfied growl, Cullen pulled his fingers out of her, then trained the tip of his cock against her twitching flesh. There was a moment of resistance, then they both moaned as her body accommodated him.

Cullen pushed very slowly into her, his eyes never leaving her face. It took him a few moments, but eventually he was seated in her fully.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed, smoothing a sweaty strand of hair from her forehead.

For an instant, Vira felt a tug of sadness, the same she had felt at the beginning of the evening. Cullen had looked down at her with such wonder, such adoration. Suddenly she was keenly aware of how much she had to lose.

Then, Cullen’s eyes tightened, the lust overtaking him. He thrust into her. Vira was stretched, burning; it felt like a benediction. Suddenly her worries evaporated and she was fully in her body, attuned only to the feeling of Cullen moving in her, his eyes on her face.

A small warble escaped her lips. Cullen gradually increased the pressure of his thrusts.

“That’s it. Give yourself to me. You’re so good. That’s it. Let me take you. Give yourself to me.” Cullen brought the heel of his thumb to bear on her swollen nub: slow, firm circles, even as his thrusts became sharper. “That’s my good girl. Fuck, it feels so good. You think you can come for me? With me taking your ass? Mmmm, I love the way you bounce against me. That’s it. Wrap your legs around me. Come on, Inquisitor. That’s a good girl. Come for me, Vira. Let me feel you. Let me see you. Come, good girl. Come.”

The last few words were orders, issued between clenched teeth. Cullen’s hips jerked into the Inquisitor as she wailed her release. It felt like thunder, endless waves rolling through her body.

Cullen, meanwhile, continued to thrust, his breath now coming in grunts. There was an intensity in his eyes Vira had seldom seen outside the battlefield; it was intoxicating.  

“Fuck!” he shouted, spurting into her. Vira swore she could feel it, the pulses that wracked through him, though perhaps those were aftershocks of her own.

She remembered little else of the night. Cullen must have released her hands at some point, and she had vague recollections of a warm cloth cleaning the worst of the mess off her. Mostly she remembered the feeling of floating, somehow, sinking into slumber, not needing the wolf to ward off her nightmares, fully focusing on the sensations in her body, completely spent, as she breathed in rhythm to the lion next to her.

***

Three days later, Vira, Cole, Cassandra, and Morrigan arrived at the Altar of Mythal at sunset. Vira and her companions made camp just outside the entrance to the grove, the statue of Mythal visible at the other side of the clearing.

Vira lay under her blanket, sleepless. After the ritual to summon Mythal, they might finally be able to best Corypheus. Vira’s mind reeled at the enormity of what was at stake, and what might come after. An hour of scattered worry passed before she got up. She slipped into the trees, silent, almost invisible. Vira made her way to the nearest wolf statue, a quarter-mile from the camp.

Unlike most of the Dalish statues, which depicted a wolf laying down yet watchful, this statue was on its haunches, howling, cloaked in a filigree of ivy and rashvine. Vira sat between the front paws and looked up at the crescent moon.

A deep sadness had overtaken her. There was the immediate anxiety, of course, but some other emotion. It felt ancient, a longing for things she had never seen, regret for actions never taken.

A song came to her, one she had heard Maryden perform in the tavern. Vira found herself singing, softly.

> _Once we were in our peace with our lives assured_
> 
> _Once we were not afraid of the dark._
> 
> _Once we sat in our kingdom with hope and pride,_
> 
> _Once we ran through the fields with great strides._
> 
> _We held the Fade, and the demon's flight_
> 
> _So far from our children and from our lives._
> 
> _We held together the fragile sky to keep our way of life._
> 
> _Once we raised up our chalice in victory_
> 
> _Once we sat in the light of our dreams._
> 
> _Once we were in our homeland with strength and might,_
> 
> _Once we were not afraid of the night._

Though she did not sing loudly, Vira’s voice carried through the ancient forest, reverberating through the trees. For an instant, she felt the world shift; the trees were young, the statue new, the sun burned down on her from above. But the vision faded.

Cole appeared beside Vira. “The trees remember. So does the stone. They sing with you.”

“Fenedhis.” Vira jumped, reaching for her daggers at the sound of his voice. “You startled me,” she accused.

“You weren’t listening to now. You were listening to the past, singing it free, loosening it from the tethers,” Cole noted. “But it can’t be freed. The now crowds it out. If you free the past the now goes away.”

Vira leaned her head to rest on the cool stone. “I must be tired,” she said. “That almost made sense.”

“He wants to free it, too.” Cole said. “He wants to _undo_. But one can only do, not undo. It won’t work. It changed.” He looked up at the howling wolf.

“Do you mean Corypheus?” Vira asked.

Cole shook his head. After a moment he spoke again, looking down at her from under his hat. “You fear the ending because it might mean another beginning.”

Vira took a deep breath. “Cole, you are a wonderful spirit, and I’m glad you’re my friend. But you definitely have a way of making me feel uncomfortable. There’s such a thing as too much truth, you know.”

Cole peered at her with huge, unblinking eyes. “Cullen loves you. He doesn’t care if he’s not the only one. He would say yes if you asked.” Cole said.

Vira hugged her knees to her chest. “Thank you, Cole. That’s good to know.”


	27. End Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author grants herself the closure denied to her by Bioware. After defeating Corypheus, Lavellan tracks down Solas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks, the end of what has turned into an embarrassingly long (and embarrassingly smutty) epic. Thanks to everyone for reading and for your comments! 
> 
> This was my first fic, but it was so fun that I have been inspired to write a few more pieces around it. These will be much shorter but rest assured they will be jam packed with smut and nugs.

“I’m sorry, Cullen. I know this is difficult for you.” Vira tightened a strap on her pack.

“You... you will come back?” He stuttered. “We... I....”

“I’m not leaving you,” Vira said. “Cullen, I have to make this journey. Just... pretend I’m going to help a Villager find his lost prize-winning nug or something. Creators know it wouldn’t be the first time.” 

The joke was not enough to cut through the Commander’s growing panic. “I just wish I could go with you. Or... anyone, really. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Vira shook her head. “There’s little enough chance he’ll come to me alone.”

“Do you really believe that?” Cullen asked. His voice broke a bit.

Vira sighed, closing her eyes. It had been two weeks since the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Two weeks since she opened a fade rift, tearing Corypheus apart. Not that she remembered much of the actual fight. She recalled a wash of blood and fire, the glow of Cassandra’s mace, Varric’s crossbow bolts streaking faster than lightning, explosions of raw power emanating from Solas and his staff. It had been the three of them with her, there, at the beginning, when Vira closed the first rift. Seemed fitting they should be there to end it.

One memory, though, had seared itself into her. Every time she closed her eyes, Vira saw the look of despair on Solas’ face as he knelt over the shattered orb. And in moments of silence his voice haunted her with those final words: “... what we had was real.”

Vira finished fiddling with her saddle. She turned to Cullen. “I’m not going to a reunion. I’m going to a funeral. You of all people know: when someone dies, we burn the body. Otherwise, they may rise again.” She grabbed his face with both hands, giving him a breathless kiss. “You have me, Commander. Forever. Nothing will change that.”

Cullen’s eyes were wet as he enfolded her in an embrace. “I would wait a lifetime for you, my lady,” he murmured. 

“You won’t have to,” Vira whispered.

It was Morrigan, of all people, that had set Vira on this path. When Leliana reported that her spies were unable to track Solas after his disappearance, a gnawing suspicion began to grow in Vira’s stomach. Finally, she sent for Morrigan. 

The witch arrived in Vira’s chambers. “What can I do for you, Inquisitor?”

Vira looked into Morrigan’s golden eyes. “You drank from the Well. The voices speak to you. Can you tell me what has become of Solas?”

“Is this a personal request, or an Inquisition matter?” Morrigan asked.

“Both.”

“I see.” Morrigan closed her eyes. After a moment, she gasped in pain, falling to her knees. Across her face, Mythal’s vallaslin glowed brightly, then faded, leaving the witch’s face unmarked.

Vira leapt to help her. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Morrigan shook her head. “I am unharmed. I....” She looked up at Vira, sadness etched across her face. “The will of Mythal prevents me from giving you the information you seek.”

Vira sighed, leaning on her desk heavily. “That’s it, then.”

“Perhaps not,” Morrigan said, rising to her feet. “I cannot tell you more of Solas, beyond that which you already know. But, perhaps it might be said that you could find your own answers. You do, after all, have  power  of your own.” The witch picked up the wolf statue that sat on Vira’s desk. She took Vira’s hand, placing the totem on the anchor and closing the elf’s fingers around it, before taking her leave.

Vira pondered Morrigan’s words. Comprehension seemed just out of her grasp. Turning, Vira noticed a small piece of paper which had been slipped under the statue. She had unfolded the note, written in her own hand. Then came a sprint to the tavern, where she found Cole waiting calmly in the corner of the attic, his hand already outstretched, a wisp of white light burning in his palm. 

And so, Vira made one last journey, to confirm her suspicion. The ride to the Emerald Graves took two days for a rider willing to push their mount, but Vira took it easy, traveling away from the main roads, picking her way through the dense forest. Each night, after building a small fire, she spent an hour or two with carving knives and a small block of wood. Sometimes she sang to herself, quietly. The local wolves gathered outside of the circle of firelight as she slept, watching over her.

On the fourth day, she approached the ruined pavilion with the statue of Fen’Harel, where she had fought alongside the wolves what seemed like a lifetime ago. The anchor throbbed on her palm. Still, Vira took her time, sweeping dead leaves from around the base of the statue, lighting sticks of incense and placing them in the offering bowls. Only then did Vira place the anchor on the statue, almost a caress.

“I know you can hear me. I called upon you here before, and I do so again. Hear me, Fen’Harel. Heed my words, the words of the one you once called... vhenan. Come to me.” Vira spoke clearly, but not loudly.

Nothing happened. This was expected; she was patient. Vira set up her bedroll and made camp. For five days, she worked almost ceaselessly on her carving. Each day at sunrise and sunset, she repeated her call, re-lit the incense. Each night, she dreamed herself a wolf, laying patiently between the statue’s paws.

At sunset on the sixth day, her carving was complete. She weighed it in her hand, a small smile on her face. The sound of fabric rustling behind her was familiar.

“Solas,” she said, not turning. “You came.”

“I had no choice. You do realize I hate the smell of incense.” The characteristic mockery brought a wry grin to Vira’s lips. 

She stood and turned to face him. He looked exactly the same, the wolf jaw amulet resting on his beige tunic. The old, familiar longing was there, but it had mellowed. Where before her emotion was sharp, a stabbing pang, now she felt a warm, gentle yearning, almost nostalgic.

“How did you know?” Solas leaned on his staff and tilted his head, the posture so familiar that Vira felt the prick of tears in her eyes.

“Your power gave you away. I felt it when you came to me here as Fen’Harel in my dream. I felt it again in the Fade, and when we were in the Crossroads. I might not have made the connection, but then I found my note. I got my memory back from Cole. That... power... was familiar. I just needed a little distance to realize it.”

“I never lied to you, Vir’athawen. I  am  Solas. Fen’Harel is my... title, as it were,” he said.

“You might not have lied, but you tricked me, all the same. I suppose I should feel honored,” she said, laughing. One tear broke free and streamed down Vira’s cheek. She dashed it away with the back of her hand. “It  is  what you do, after all. Not many can say they were deceived by a god. Much less seduced by one.”

His face was wracked with pain. “You are unique in that regard. Ma vhenan, I wanted to tell you. In Crestwood, I almost did.” He took a step closer.

“I would have understood, Solas. Of all people, I would have understood.”

“It was too great a risk. I know  you  would have accepted me as Fen’Harel, but would your companions? Especially knowing it was  my  orb that Corypheus wielded?”

“What?” Vira’s stomach clenched.

“When I awoke from my uthenera, I was weak. I traveled for years as a wolf, roaming the countryside, conserving my power.”

“That’s when you saved me,” Vira said.

Solas nodded. “The world I had known and loved was gone. All I worked for was destroyed. I had sacrificed so much, and all for nothing. Then, one day, I saw a child, laughing, free, with no despair. I followed her into the gleaming forest. The wonder in her shining eyes kindled hope in my heart. I saved her from the spiders.”

He took a step closer, now close enough that Vira could see the freckles on his skin, the ones she had once delighted in trying to count. “Eventually, I became myself again. But I was still too weak; the orb would not respond. There was another ancient power growing. I sensed the evil within his soul. I gave the orb to Corypheus, knowing he would try to unlock its power. The explosion was meant to kill him, and I would be free to undo my mistake.”

Vira stared at Solas, horror in her face. “You didn’t know about the blight. You didn’t know he would survive.” she whispered.

He shook his head in frustration. “No. And when I made my way to the explosion site, what did I find, but the da’len that had given me hope years ago. She was now a woman of unsurpassed beauty, wisdom, and strength, set upon a dangerous road, because of my actions. The guilt weighed on me. Then we spoke, and I discovered that, in saving you, I had ruined your life. Every moment of pain, sadness, or loneliness that you have ever experienced, was caused by  me .” 

Vira looked down, swallowing hard. She felt as if all the jumbled pieces of her life were suddenly clicking into place. “Well, you’re right about that,” she said finally. 

Solas took another step closer. He took her chin in his hand, raising her face to his. “And after all of that, one mistake compounding another, I found a way to make it worse.”

“You fell in love,” Vira whispered.

He smiled, though it was full of sadness. “Yes.”

“As did I.” Vira lost herself in his gaze for a moment before speaking. “Solas, why do you think I’m here?”

Solas looked into her eyes. “I thought perhaps you wished to confront me, demand an apology.”

Vira shook her head. “I didn’t come here for me, although I do have a request. I came here for  you .” Vira took his hands in hers.

“I don’t understand,” Solas said.

Vira reached a hand up to touch his cheek. “You see only the pain you caused - to me, to the elves, to Thedas. But if you hadn’t saved me as a child, I would have died. Instead, I have experienced wonders greater than almost anyone alive. I have a family, forged from ties stronger than blood. I have experienced love that eclipses my wildest dreams. A Dalish elf has come to hold the greatest political power in southern Thedas. I saved the  world , Solas. All because of you.” Vira laughed. “Can you not recognize your own Slow Arrow?”

The self-mocking despair in Solas’ eyes began to lift.

Vira’s lips curled into a smile. “I know things did not work out the way you intended. But a wise man once said to me, ‘That’s the problem when you try to change things. Things change.’”

Solas snorted dismissively. “Who told you that?”

“Hawke,” Vira admitted. “But, an even wiser person told me, ‘You can’t  un do, you can only do. If you free the past, the now goes away.’”

Solas raised an eyebrow at that.

“Cole said that one. And he’s right. Now. I have a gift for you, Solas.” She took his hand and placed it over her heart.

An incredulous look stole over his face. “The pain is gone,” Solas said, looking into her eyes in wonder. “After everything that I have done to you, how is that possible?”

“All I needed was the truth.” She took his hand once more and kissed his fingertips. “My love for you will probably never wane, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. Because I’m  happy . I’m happy because of you. Cause and effect.”

“Da’len...” Solas said. “I do not deserve this.”

Vira scoffed. “Pssh. Of course you don’t.” She laughed. “I  did  mention I wanted something in return, right?” She reached into her pocket, holding her carving out to him. “I want your blessing, Fen’Harel.”

Solas looked down at her palm. He nodded, swallowing hard. He gently curled her fingers over her carving, covering them with his own. “You have it.”

Vira embraced Solas, holding him tightly. After a moment she ripped herself away. “You are forever welcome in my dreams, Dread Wolf.”

“I have your scent, Vir’athawen. I will always find you.” 

After a lingering moment where he drank in Vir’athawen’s face, Solas turned to leave. 

“Oh, and Solas?”

“Yes?”

“I know you feel compelled to fix your mistakes. And I’m all for making the world,  this  world, a better place. We can work together. I may not be an ancient Elvhen god, but I have power of my own. I have armies, spies, kingdoms at my command. Not to mention this,” she said, holding up the anchor. “You may have set me on the path, but I worked very hard to put things right. I won’t have that undone. And if I find out, and I  will  find out, that you plan to, say, rip down the veil, change the course of history, and wipe out the present world in the process, I’ll be forced to stop you. It’s your choice.”

Solas blinked. A smile ignited in his eyes, slowly overtaking his face. He laughed in genuine delight. “I shall take that into consideration, Inquisitor. Until we meet again.” The elf saluted, still smiling as he turned and left.

Two days later, Commander Cullen rose from his desk and stretched. He ambled out to the battlements, peering over the mountains, the hope now so idle that it was habit to indulge. It was only two days to the Emerald Graves, after all, and Vira had been gone for most of two weeks. No messenger birds had arrived. The suspicion that Vira was not coming back was starting to take root. Still, he waited, as he said he would.

A figure was racing up the mountain pass, pushing their mount hard. A courier, perhaps. But... not many couriers rode a hart.

Cullen dashed down the steps, hardly daring to hope. He raced toward the gate. 

Vira galloped in, leaping from her mount as it slowed, tumbling gracefully to the ground.

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen breathed. “You’ve returned.” 

“I told you, I never left,” Vira said. “I love you, Cullen.”

“Ar lath ma, Vir’athawen,” Cullen said. Vira could tell he’d been practicing the accent.

There was a moment where they both could do no more than stare into each other’s eyes, overwhelmed by emotion. Then, they fumbled in their pockets, each proffering a closed fist to the other. “I wanted to ask you...” they both began.

With sheepish grins, they slowly unfurled their fingers. Cullen held out a gold ring, topped with a ruby heart surrounded by tiny diamonds. Vira held a ring of carved ironbark, upon which a lion and a wolf faced each other.

They both started to laugh. Trembling, Vira allowed Cullen to place the ring on her finger; a moment later she did the same, sealing their betrothal. Songs were later composed for the kiss they shared, the lion and the wolf, in the keep that held up the sky, under the setting sun. 

A small, elite crowd had gathered on the battlements to watch the proceedings.

“Finally,” Varric said. “That’ll make a great ending for my book. If anyone believes it.”

Cassandra sighed contentedly. “So romantic.” She rested her chin on her hand as she leaned over the wall next to him.

“I think it’s rather sweet,” Dorian remarked. 

“You would, Kadan,” Bull smirked. “Don’t get any ideas, though.” Despite his words, Bull put an arm around the Tevinter’s shoulder, pulling him close. Dorian touched the dragontooth necklace that lay on Bull’s chest and smiled.

“Where did he get the ring?” Vivienne asked, looking down at them through a jeweled spyglass. “Ruby, it looks like. And quite a large one. Decades out of fashion, though,” she sniffed.

“It was his mother’s,” Leliana said. “Cullen wrote to his sister a month ago requesting it.”

“Pssh. Bunch of tossers, you ask me,” Sera snorted. Despite her words, the thief craned her neck to watch the couple, idly nibbling on a cookie.

“Well, it’s a good thing no one did, then, isn’t it?” Blackwall frowned, ducking his head as a cookie went sailing past. He inched closer to Josephine, the back of his hand casually brushing hers. Josephine’s smile widened as they exchanged a secret glance.

“They are happy. And so is he. The slow arrow has hit the mark.” Cole sat precariously on the battlement wall, his heels tapping on the stone. “Ar lasa mala revas, vhenan. I am free.”


End file.
